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within their thin sac and stroking the fold of skin between his scrotum and his anus with her index finger. He bent forward, reached through her hair and grasped her right breast. ‘Don’t stop,’ he ordered.
    He nipped her nipple, pulled and stretched it to a painful point and she moaned around his cock. He took her whole breast in his hand and squeezed and released, squeezed and released, not gentle, hard and urgent. She needed him to touch her like that so badly, all over, everywhere, inside and out, every inch at the same time. Her heart was racing, her body buzzing; this man had her hovering on the edge of something spectacular. She could orgasm with him just touching her tits.
    She tasted more pre-come, his hips jerked. He was close, only seconds away. She increased and decreased the suction in time with the small bobbing motion his hold would allow and, as she jacked up the speed, his cock hardened to steel in her mouth, taut, rigid, a balloon about to pop. And then he exploded, with an enormous pumping action, like his penis had a life of its own, he burst in her mouth. She couldn’t breathe, semen flooded her throat, but she barely had to swallow he was so deep anyway. Hot and salty he filled her. Flowing like a tidal wave of satisfaction.
    His hips were overtaken by spasms which shuddered into his cock and his balls retracted from her palm right up into his body. She tugged her head backwards and he finally let her move. His penis was still in her mouth, still hard, but now she could breathe around it she pulled in long ribbons of air.
    As her lungs and heart rate returned to normal, she moved her tongue lazily around the shaft, fondled his piercing with the tip and tickled her fingers up to the granite muscles of his abdomen.
    She looked at his face. His eyes were glazed and his mouth slack. Beads of glistening sweat nestled in the stubble on his top lip. With a final lick, she let his cock slip from her mouth into her waiting hand.
    ‘Zip me up,’ he said in a gravelly voice as he brushed a strand of hair from her flushed, damp cheek.
    She did as he asked, though his cock was harder than it should be after ejaculation and she struggled to get it back in its containment.
    ‘I think it’s going to be a good night, Rapunzel,’ he said, knocking back the rest of his whisky. ‘Come here,’ he tugged at the collar. ‘Sit with me and we’ll watch the next show together. Then we’ll go to my private room.’

Part Three
    AS THE NEXT SHOW progressed, which involved a tightly bound, naked emperor being treated to a flogging by several gleeful fairies, Rapunzel grabbed a sneaky look at Cinderella. Her cheeks had flushed and her nipples were sticking through her gown like sharp pencil points. She had a dreamy smile on her face and was nestled into Tate like he was her favourite armchair.
    Tate hadn’t glanced at the show; instead, he appeared fascinated by Cinderella’s breasts and was looking down her top quite blatantly. Rapunzel watched in amusement as his thumb brushed her nipples, first one then the other, exciting them further with each cheeky touch. Cinderella batted him off in a half hearted kind of way, then giggled and squirmed on his lap which elicited a groan that sounded more like agony than pleasure from his lips.
    Cinderella certainly looked as though she was having a good time, and although she’d had a couple of drinks and the draught of Vervain, Rapunzel knew she was in perfect control of what she was doing. She’d simply lightened up a little – OK, a lot – and was ready to have her eyes opened to what would be expected of a married woman, in particular a woman married to Prince Charming. It was a stroke of good fortune that Cinderella and Tate had been hit with such an instant, physical attraction to one another. Some might call it fate.
    Beast saw Rapunzel studying Cinderella. He caught her chin in his hand and forced her head back towards the show. ‘Watch,’ he murmured into her