Mirror of Desire

Princess Raven of Grimhilde accepted the marriage to King Alfred the White out of duty to her kingdom.

Over the weeks, Raven found herself becoming obsessed with Princess Snow; marble skin, ruby red lips and ebony hair haunted her dreams.

Then the mirror arrived to take pride of place in her bedroom. The Queen had her private suite of rooms, she was not the King's concubine.

The first time she touched the mirror, the Princess' suite appeared. Her hand pulled back instantly, the image vanished. She discovered that, beneath her touch, it would show her Snow.

She found herself stealing away to watch Snow whenever she knew Snow would be alone. Watching Snow undress and bathe left her breathless.

After the great winter feast, she saw Snow sneaking a man into her chambers. Raven closed her door, the urge to touch the mirror overwhelming. She had to force herself away to bed.

She lay trying to sleep, the room boiled around her, shedding clothes did nothing to cool her body above the covers. The moans started quietly, she couldn't tell if they were real or imagined. The more she tried to block out the sounds the more they burrowed into her skull.

She found herself out of bed. With eyes closed, she held her breath and placed her palm against the polished surface. A beautiful woman rode a man with more experience and confidence than she could imagine possessing.

As Raven watched, her hand moved to slide between open legs. Her eyes gazed at curves of flesh moving before her, mesmerizing her. Sliding amongst wet flesh, her fingertips found the hidden pearl.

Moving out of instinct, her fingers explored the hot sensitive tip. Her breathing grew more rapid, heat between her legs grew.

Her body felt it would tear itself apart. Her fingers moved faster, her body convulsed. She fell backwards onto the floor the whimpering.

Ashamed of her actions, she spent weeks worrying. She feared the mirror, but couldn't help touching it. An opportunity presented itself, an invitation to far off kingdom. Raven persuaded the King to send Snow to learn their customs, with the Queen's huntsman as escort.

The huntsman returned with terrible news of wild animals in the dark forest. The princess had been slain, her heart shaped locket returned, smeared in blood. The Queen was distraught, all she had wanted was for Snow to be away from the castle, to quell her obsession.

The Queen spent hours touching the mirror, it showed nothing but her own guilt-ridden reflection.

Days after giving up hope she placed her hand on the mirror one last time, it sprang into life.

The interior of a small cottage came into view. In the centre of the room, on a table, lay Snow naked and alive. 7 dwarfs surrounded the princess, each of them holding their thick manhood.

She watched the dwarfs advanced. They entered Snow in everyway possible. Her hand lifted her gown to find her wet flesh within. She watched Snow pleasing each dwarf over and over, enjoying it.

The Queen kept the secret of Snow being alive to herself, even after she discovered the location of the cottage. Watching Snow being enjoyed by the dwarfs was too good.

One morning the Queen awoke, her bedsheets damp with perspiration. She reached out for the mirror now beside the bed.

Snow was on her knees, a black leather corset around her, a dwarf behind her pulling hard on the laces. White breasts spilled over the top, her waist pinched to exaggerate her curving ass. Her face showed pain as the dwarf yanked the laces.

With the corset fastened, the dwarf left. The Queen watched Snow get to her feet, black corset upon  pale skin, an intoxicating contrast. With the King virtually bedridden with depression, court duties were piling up, the Queen forced herself out of bed. As the vision faded, Snow stumbled, the Queen placed her hand back.

Snow regained her balance, the corset only allowing the shallowest breaths. Crossing the room, Snow threw the window open, she tried to suck fresh air into her lungs. She slumped against the windowsill, then collapsed backwards to sprawl across the floor.

Raven rode her horse hard, her hair flying behind her.

It was early evening when the exhausted horse reached the cottage. The Queen found snow laid on a stone, surrounded by flowers, all she wore were the red marks the corset had left.

Red lips had kept their colour but remained still. Lowering herself to the lips, she meant to listen for breath; instead she pressed her lips against lifelessness. Her tongue tried to tease the mouth open, but it remained closed to her.

Her hand moved over skin that was forbidden to her. Soft flesh of still breasts, then smooth stomach leading to shaved skin. Fingers moved on, unable to control her intrigue. One slid into her crevasse, pushing between warm folds.

As her finger stroked the bud within, lips beneath her twitched. Warm breath filled her mouth. Lips opened, and their tongues entwined. Snow moaned beneath her stepmothers touch. The Queen pulled back, looking into blue eyes. The princess pulled her back down whilst holding her hand against moistening flesh.

Word Count 869