Daughter of the Dawn

Daughter of the Dawn

by Gigi1995

art by MoonKing

With a tired glance, replaced by a heavy yawn carefully disguised by the back of a hand, he accepted the plaudits of another dignitary in the seemingly endless receiving line. He wasn't going to count the many hands he had shook lips that sought his ducal signet, or expectant gazes of some comely, but more than often not homely princess or lady of the realm seeking to share his wedding bed. The cries of the Chamberlain announcing the various parties in attendance had become a travesty, made even more so by his father's insistence he take a bride before the night was through.

His neck itched against the heavy woolen jacket fasten securely about his throat. The Scarlet fabric was a radiant symbol that the night was his, the king decreeing that none shall wear the color lest they take away from his son. An almost oppressive golden braid fell from his epaulettes, crossing his barrel chest and obscuring a row of medals which had no significance, except to an easily deceived public. And still they came.

His crisply-trimmed mustache twitched as his sharp aquiline nose breathe the scent of chamomile, a poor woman's perfume. He wasn't going to look at her having decided that the night was a waste. But for a furtive glance, he was lost.The thoughts came tumbling from his mind... Hair of fire... eyes of light... take my soul this very night. Whether I live or die matters naught to me... for you are my soul, my very life... I give to you my last delight.

Her scent raised his nostrils as he was assailed with raw animalism. He wanted to bow to her, to curry her favor, yet she was seeking his. Vermilion tresses haloed her angelic visage, as her seraphic smile etched itself on his soul. Eyes, deep and soulful reached for him, trapping him as a huntress would her prey. Her gown was a soft and diaphanous rose, creating the illusion of a flower's field. Her nipples, brown and full, pressed enticingly against the gossamer filament of her bodice. If she weren't nothing it would have been too much.

He gently took her hand in his, holding it until her power radiated through him. Fire burned in his loins as he gathered her to the ballroom floor. The couple, ignorant of the sharp glances of the hopefuls who came before, glided across the floor with the grace of a pair of mating panthers. Her figure was supple and lithe in his arms following each of his moves as if they had been choreographed. The pair dominated the ballroom with a heated sensuality that sent even the most brazen searching for a cool drink.

To and fro he led her until the pair boiled and frothed in a dance macabre which seem to lift them to the rafters as the music fought to match their frenzy. First to one side then the next until the very stones of the palace shook with illicit pleasure. He inhaled her perfume with a furious breath letting it carry him away on waves of ecstasy. The frenzied dance held them suspended over an abyss of agony as it gripped them in its clutches, threatening to consume their very souls... male and female joined as one in the boughs of heaven.

As the dance wore on, women feigned faint as men were driven to stay their base desires in the dark recesses of their minds. ecstasy abounded as the pair turned the ballroom into their droit de voir... that is to say their right away. Never can it be said fire danced a more sensual tune.

Then as suddenly as it had started, it was over. In silence the two gazed into each other's eyes, their souls seemingly joined as one. With a sigh, he took her hand and led her from the floor. Knowing smiles followed the couple as they escaped the oppressive heat of the ballroom.

Passing the portico which led to the prince's apartments, he turned and looked for his father. No word passed between them for none was necessary. The collective breath of the attendees let out as the pair disappeared around the corner. A spirited conversation exploded out of the silence and the orchestra leader gathered his wits enough to play a ruffle and a flourish for the departed pair.

Time was too slow as the couple increased their pace toward his waiting chamber. His powerful arms encircled her and he lifted her, carrying his delight across the threshold and laying her on his bed. He frantically worried at the buttons on his tunic while she, as a butterfly shedding it's chrysalis, let the gown fall away. He gasped as her beauty overpowered even the torches which illuminated the bed chamber. Her soft curves met his hard lines as they embraced, falling free into the yielding mattress.

Rapturously the pair tussled until they were entwined in a tenacious embrace.

He surrendered to her, and firmly she held him clamped inside her, riding him in her immortal embrace like the animal he was. No virgin was she, for while she was steeled with the tightness of a servant of Vestal, she was experienced well beyond her years. His back arched as he answered her lusty calls until he could answer no more and still she held him tight.

His brow burned with lusty fire as he pulled her close, his arms drawing their bodies together in sinful ardor. The eyes met - hers a soft indigo in which the pupils were a sea of mystery and his clouded with the desire to lose himself forever in the heat of her embrace.

As the clock began to strike the midnight hour, she rose from the sheets. Her body glistened in the moonlight. His hand rose and reach for her, brushing her heavy breast.

"You cannot leave!" he cried, his voice a plaintive mew. Why I don't even know your name."

She laughed. Her laugh was infectious giving him a smile secure in the knowledge that she was his. He watched her as she slipped it between his legs, her lips enveloping his manhood as the clock finished twelve. Her eyes flashed yellow and her continence suddenly hardened. A deep growl came from her throat as fear filled him. He sought to plea but she held him tight, her tongue working sensuously lapping his life force away. At once she was a princess, a demon, a she-tiger in heat, baring herself for him alone. Futilely he struggled against her wiles but his recourse was only one - surrender the anima that was never his. With nary a whimper he passed from one life to the next thankful for the one moment that true ecstasy visited his bed.

"Cinderella," the woman whispered with a withering smile.

* * *

The clock struck 10 and the chambermaid entered the prince's quarters to set the room in order. As she entered the chamber the heady scent of chamomile assailed her senses. To her dismay she found the room in disarray. Then she saw the prince. He lay across the corner of his bed, his head almost touching the floor, his golden locks brushing the cold tiles. His modesty was preserved by a corner of the silken sheets which covered what was once robust, but was now wane - a mere shell of the mortal man that had once been. His lips were pulled back in a smile frozen in rictus. At the corner of the bed imprinted on the tiled floor the well-defined print of a female foot marked by a cloven heel.