FOREWORD/CONTENT ADVISORY
Hello. I'm Diometes.
This is my first-ever fanfic, and be warned upfront: it gets pretty spicy by the end.
The basic premise for this single-chapter story is as follows: remember that fun scene where Prince Phillip arrives at the fairies' cottage at night, and is ambushed and captured by Maleficent? What if their trap had been sprung for Aurora instead? And what if they'd decided to have a little bit of fun before taking the prisoner home?
As you might expect, the story features BDSM elements: primarily physical restraint of one party (in this case, naturally, Aurora/Briar Rose) and Non-Con. So be advised of that before you begin reading. For the purposes of this alternate universe story, you should also note that my Briar Rose is eighteen, not sixteen as she supposedly is in the film (which is absolutely preposterous, BTW, I mean look at her).
I am posting this simultaneously on AO3 under the same title and username, both as a contingency against having my work stolen and in case it gets taken down here - as I believe it qualifies as MA rated. From what I've seen, there are plenty of more explicit fics on this site that don't get yanked by admin, but who knows what could happen. Anyway, if you like the story and come back one day to find it missing, just know in advance you can also find it on AO3.
Author's Note: Most erotica/spicyfic as a general rule does not do much for me. I think a lot of fiction aimed in this direction leans much too hard into vulgarity/shock value as a substitute for immersive writing, and comes off amateurish/distracting. Not to mention other common issues: the author moves things too quickly (probably in a hurry to get to "the good parts"), so insufficient attention is given to texturing and conveying the internal/external dimensions of a sexual experience.
This story represents my best attempt at thwarting these common problems, focused more on capturing an emotional and mental journey as Briar Rose moves from fright to fight, and then from defeat to unexpected pleasure: no sexual organs are even named (though they do play a part!) and you will hopefully be as grateful as I am proud that at no point is any bodily fluid described as "love juice". If you feel inclined to leave a review, I'd love to know whether you think I'm onto something with this more reserved approach to erotic fiction ("reserved" being a relative term, admittedly - do not mistake me, this is a sexually explicit fic - but I think it's a different enough approach to make note of). If you can recommend more stuff in this style, please do!
The Kidnapping of Briar Rose
Night was approaching as Briar Rose quietly moved through the woods. Her real name was Aurora, but it was going to take some time before she ever became accustomed to thinking of herself by that name - she had been Briar Rose for her entire living memory, up until about three hours ago. Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather had left her in her upstairs bedroom to have some time to herself after the earth-shattering revelations they'd suddenly unleashed upon her. Even after she'd escaped through the window, determined not to let the trajectory of her life be dictated by strangers she had never known, she hadn't been able to escape the thought of those revelations.
"You're already betrothed," Fauna had said.
"Since the day you were born-"
"To Prince Phillip, dear!" The good fairies had never before put even a single name to any of the royals who dwelt in that far-off majestic castle she had looked at in wonder so many uncounted times. And now, just after her eighteenth birthday, they expected her to receive the news that she was to be married off to one of them with gladness? It was unimaginable. And the peasant man she'd met in the woods that afternoon… when she remembered his deep singing voice and broad, muscled shoulders, she felt almost queasy. What prince could possibly match him, even if, as Flora had claimed, she was a princess by birth? Did "Princess Aurora" not have any right to marry and love whom she chose, and to decide on a course for her own future?
No. She had decided: she would not accompany the fairies to the castle, at the very least not this evening. She owed the nameless stranger the courtesy of keeping her promise to meet him at the cottage. Perhaps the fairies would take a liking to him, she allowed herself to imagine with satisfaction, and agree that this whole betrothal business had been ill-conceived from the start. Or perhaps their prudent, unbiased judgment - which, in spite of the resentment that had been simmering in Briar Rose all evening, she trusted deeply and implicitly - would reveal some flaws in the man which she had been unable to see while carried off in the excitement of their meeting. Either way, she felt confident that things would be plainer and happier if they could just meet him.
Her mind having been made up, she was now most of the way back to the cottage. It came into view as she emerged into the glen, a charming little building nestled into the root structure of a colossal tree and situated alongside a creek and waterwheel. It was the only home Briar Rose had ever known.
Why were there no lights in the windows? That was strange. She had expected, of course, that the fairies might not be home when she returned. After discovering that she'd run away, they would doubtless fly into a panic and spread into the woods to search for her. Rose knew the forest better than they, however - she had chosen her route and hiding places carefully, and only once that evening had thought she might have heard the faintest hint of a voice calling her name in the distance. But she didn't think it like them to extinguish all the candles and the hearth. Night was fast approaching - dusk had already settled over the glen as the enormous trees obscured the setting sun. There was still plentiful light to see, but Rose knew from experience how dark nights could get in the forest. She was forced to conclude, with a pang of guilt, that they were so distraught by her disappearance that they had simply forgotten. She would have to relight the hearth herself.
As she crossed the little bridge over the creek, Briar Rose paused to check her reflection, thinking of the promised reunion with the peasant man. She knew she was naturally beautiful, but after hours moving through wild undergrowth, she might look a little wild herself. It was not, however, nearly as bad as she feared. Her hair had gone a little frizzy, yes, but the only obvious signs of her trekking were, predictably, in her clothes: her skirt was stained with mud and grasses, the laces of her bodice had snagged on various brambles and begun to loosen, and the loose billowy shirt she wore beneath it had a few minor tears in the sleeve, easily mended in an hour's work. For tonight, she could simply change clothes and look quite presentable.
She did not bother to knock at the door. She simply let herself in, as she had done probably thousands of times over the years, and stepped through into the shadows of the parlor. She chanced a call as she moved toward the fireplace: "Flora?"
Several things happened then, seemingly all at once. The first was that she noticed an unusual smell - an unpleasant, matted kind of smell, like livestock that has gone too long unwashed or unbrushed. It gave her pause. She had never smelled anything like it in this house.
The second thing was that the door swung shut behind her. No, it did not swing - it slammed. Briar Rose jumped in alarm, and spun to face toward the sound, her skirt swirling around her calves. It was not yet fully dark outside, but the lack of light inside the cottage was suddenly oppressive. For reasons she did not have time to comprehend, she wanted to be outside again - out in the still-lit forest, rather than shut inside this murky room. But how had the door slammed?
Then the third thing happened: the parlor burst into sound, and shadows from all corners of her vision exploded into motion: forward motion, converging motion. Converging on her.
Briar Rose did not even have time to scream. Things were grabbing at her, tugging at her skirts, living creatures - they were short, but heavy, and strong. And they stank. Now the reason for the unfamiliar smell was clear, though Briar Rose did not have the conscious thought to spare for the acknowledgement. They rushed at her, howling and screaming in some language of animalistic gibberish. Several actually launched themselves through the air at her, colliding with her in flying tackles from multiple directions. To say the wind was knocked out of her would be an understatement - she miraculously kept her feet, but she was suddenly gasping for breath as she raised her arms to ward off the assault. The tacklers grasped desperately to find purchase and avoid falling to the floor. One failed, but the others managed to hold on. A flailing boot hitched against Briar Rose's right shirtsleeve, and it half-tore from its seam at the shoulder under the strain.
A cold, clammy grip seized her outstretched right forearm and yanked it down and back. She resisted the creature's pull, but she was still too shocked and out-of-breath to put up much of a fight, and almost as soon as she did, she felt a length of firm cord loop once around the wrist and snap taut, making it impossible to pull the arm any further forward. Suddenly she became aware of multiple ropes draped over her torso and arms, feeling them slide and roll across her clothing.
She felt a surge of adrenaline and disgust. The creatures, whatever they were, intended to subdue her - to overpower and bind her in ropes like a captured maiden in a fairy tale. Then what? The possibilities were too horrifying to contemplate.
Somewhere in the rafters above, a raven cawed, harsh and bleak.
One of the creatures scrambled up her back and wrapped an arm around her neck, reaching with the other scrabbling claw for the wrist they had managed to snare, perhaps hoping to finish securing it. But Briar Rose still had her left arm. There were ropes over it, but the creatures were taking a rather chaotic approach, and they were not yet even close to snug. Acting more by instinct than by conscious thought, she bent suddenly low, hunching her left shoulder down, and felt several lengths of rope slide up with the reduced tension, settling slack over her shoulder. She grabbed these in a fist and tossed them over her head in a fluid motion, grabbed vaguely for the creature at her neck, and found purchase on a bit of its clothing - a vest, maybe.
The thing was already off-balance, and although Briar Rose was not particularly strong she easily threw it over her shoulder. It yowled as it went, but she felt its taloned hand cut tiny ribbons into her neck as it closed around the collar of her shirt, clinging to whatever it could. There was another ripping sound as the shirt split down the front, from the laces at the neck until the tear was halted by the top laces of her bodice. She felt cool air against her collarbone and shoulders as the suddenly widened neck of the shirt flapped loose. She had momentarily triumphed, though - several of the ropes had been tossed free by her maneuver, and she could hear as the beast she'd thrown collided satisfactorily with one of its comrades, both letting out sharp squeals of surprise and pain.
There was now a growing tension around her abdomen - the creatures were moving in circles around her, trying to wrap their cords in loops around her body to hold her in place. Briar Rose grabbed for these with her free hand, but found to her dismay that they were already quite secure in place. With a grunt of effort and frustration, she managed to counteract the constricting motion of one of the ropes, and twisted free of it.
She was blindsided then by another flying tackle, this one aimed at her partially-secured right arm. The creature let out a hoglike squeal of glee as Briar Rose, still staggering from the impact, felt it levering her arm back again - she clenched a fist and curled her biceps furiously to try and reverse the motion, but its unusual strength was too much. In moments it had twisted the forearm fully behind her back, and the rope around the wrist had tightened further, anchoring it to her waist and pulling it snug against her body. She could no longer move the arm at all.
With a sense of growing dread and the onset of panic beginning to set in, Briar Rose frantically reached behind her with her free hand, trying to get hold of the rope around the secured arm and work it free - but this instinctive move proved to be a mistake. The creatures took advantage, and almost as soon as she touched the bindings a new length of cord was looped around her left wrist and reeled inexorably into contact with the other, additional coils then employed in tying the arms together behind her. To her horror, she found that she had practically given her attackers her only free hand.
Briar Rose lurched her full bodyweight backward, frantically thinking to loosen the tension and find an opportunity to slip something free, but found the motion halted by heavy tethers from the opposite direction - in fact, glancing about her, she now realized that the loose tangle of ropes around her upper waist had several such tethers extending in various directions, anchored like guylines by tugging creatures all around, holding her in place. There was very little in this tangle that could really be called a "knot", but it barely mattered: there were enough ropes, and enough creatures, that merely keeping the cords under tension served to restrain her. Unable to move far in any direction, Briar Rose let out a grunt of exertion and pulled upward - her posture had become rather bent-over throughout this process, and she tried now to straighten, pulling against all the tethers and straining the muscles of her arms in an aimless, general struggle. She was no longer truly thinking consciously - panic had robbed her momentarily of rational thought, and she barely noticed that this move served only to exhaust herself further and to increase the tightness of her bonds, which were now digging painfully into her arms and waist. The fabric of her shirt slipped off her hunching shoulders and draped down loosely over the top of her bodice, so that her naked shoulders and clavicles were now fully exposed to the air. She flushed with humiliation and indignation.
The raven cawed again.
The creature that had most recently tackled her, still clinging, jeered with apparent delight and, clinging precariously with its thighs, grabbed fistfuls of Briar Rose's golden hair as one of its comrades scrambled up her front. The sudden, painful tugging made her yelp, which the monsters had evidently been waiting for, as her open mouth was harshly stuffed full of an acrid, oily rag. Briar Rose coughed and spat, trying to expel the gag, but she could do little against such a determined opponent. When the rag was totally in place, a second strip of cloth flashed in front of her eyes and was pulled tight over her mouth by the creature on her back, securing the gag fully in place. "Mmmmf!" was all Briar Rose could manage in protest as its little hands feverishly tied the cloth behind her neck.
A sinking pit in her stomach told Briar Rose that she was already beaten - had, in fact, been beaten in less than twenty full seconds, a humiliating rebuttal to her feeble struggles - but she continued to twist and squirm, because the alternative was to accept her defeat and whatever awful fate lay beyond. The monster on her front, who had stuffed her mouth with the gag, leered maliciously at her. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the light, and she saw that this awful thing had a snout like a hog's and fangs like those of a wolf. It was an abomination of nature, a brutish hybrid wrought by dark magic. Still wearing that evil grin, the creature produced a dagger from its belt, and placed its point threateningly at the top of Briar Rose's sternum, barely pricking the exposed flesh which had been previously covered by her shirt. It then swept the dagger downward in a single motion, bisecting the laces of her bodice from top to bottom and making it fall away to the floor. The hem of her billowy top had come loose from the waist of her skirt - she blushed, feeling more exposed than ever. The shirt was now held up only by the bunches of fabric under her arms and the faint shelf of her bosom, her modesty precariously threatened.
Briar Rose yelled again - or would have if she had not been gagged, managing only a choked, muffled groan. A lasso flew out of the darkness before her and dropped over the top of her head, though it did not go snug around her neck: it was not a noose, but a leash. More lusty howls and jeers filled the cottage as several creatures heaved downward on the leash, forcing Briar Rose to bend, then down onto one knee. A little swarm of monsters advanced on her from the shadowy fringes of the room. Briar Rose blushed even more furiously as they began roughly touching her, taking advantage of her inability to defend herself.
One creature from behind slipped a hideous hand up her shirt and stroked the sweaty, shuddering gooseflesh of her waist. She jolted and contorted her body to try pulling away, the ropes that bound her creaking in response, but they - and her collective assailants - were far, far stronger than she was. Another, lankier beast climbed onto her bent back and reached over her shoulders to paw at her hanging breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt. She gasped in shock and pain, and felt her nipples harden in response to the rough stimulation. She tried to twist to throw the thing off, but its grip was firm, and the ropes as unyielding as ever.
Briar Rose had never in her entire life even imagined such a way of being touched. The beast on her back withdrew its hands for a moment, only to then plunge its arms beneath the shirt and grope her directly, skin to skin. She snapped almost upright with the shock, then doubled over again, whimpering as its hands roughly kneaded her soft, pliant breasts. She was still trying fruitlessly to throw the creature off, feeling the futility of her resistance more and more with every second. Hot blood seemed to flush her entire body. She could not stop trembling.
Another bark and a jeer. The leash had been maneuvered around behind her, and only a light tug was needed to force Briar Rose to straighten up again, still kneeling, her back arched to accommodate the tug of the leash. Her breasts were forced up and forward by the motion, the loose drape of her ripped-open shirt slipping further down her front until it was almost hanging from the pointed stiffness of her nipples. The creatures now cooperated, seizing different sections of the garment and jerking in unison. It tore in a dozen places and came almost entirely free of her body - only a piece of her right sleeve, held in place by the ropes around that wrist, remained. She felt the smooth roundness of her breasts swelling into the night air, the sweat that ran in rivulets down the skin of her torso and abdomen cooling rapidly in a faint wind from the open windows. Her breathing came heavy, her chest rising and falling with exertion, and her entire body rippled with goosebumps, unaccustomed to being so openly exposed.
Briar Rose managed another groan before the creatures moved in again to have their way with her body - more groping hands, but also some new sensations, blending together in a blur. Several times she felt what could only be the wet sliminess of a tongue as it swept up her bare back or the side of her breast. Another creature sucked her pointed, goosefleshed nipple into its mouth and nipped lightly on it, making her buck in pain - and something else, a feeling quite unlike any she had ever experienced before. She was beginning to feel warm all over, and thought in a lightheaded moment that she hadn't ever known her own flesh to contain as much blood as now seemed to be flushing through every inch of her neck, shoulders, and bosom. She wondered fleetingly if she might burst.
A hand wriggled into the hem of her skirt and pawed at her groin, and its touch was like lightning through her body - her whole being seemed to seize up in shock, and her hips bucked with involuntary sharpness and strength. What was happening? Briar Rose was helpless, she was humiliated, these things she had expected once she was overpowered, but she also felt something new, something forbidden and fierce and horribly pleasurable: like the queasiness she had felt with the peasant man but a thousand times stronger, a million times stronger. A mouth took her other nipple in and began stimulating it with a dexterous, slimy tongue, a sensation so unprecedented and impossible to regulate that it sent her into reflexive convulsions.
She was unbelievably hot, almost drenched in sweat now, and she warred in herself between resistance and capitulation to the awful pleasure, writhing within her bonds and the relentless, questing touch of her captors. Thinking straight was impossible - she found to her utter amazement that she wished she were wearing another shirt for them to rip from her body, wishing to be made even more exposed, more vulnerable to their exploiting touch. They had subdued her indeed, yes, they had overpowered her, restrained her, dominated her, and the thought was good somehow, somehow wonderful as a dozen hands forced sensations upon her so overwhelming that she now had to close her eyes to reduce the dizziness-
Briar Rose felt the hand in her skirt groping again, felt an unfamiliar but not unpleasant moisture against its touch, and the lightning was even stronger this time. She heard herself moan beneath her gag, tremors racking up and down her body. Her breathing came raggedly, the gag restricting her airflow, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were still squeezed shut - she thought she might never be able to open them again - and something fleshy and hard had begun gliding between her bare breasts, up and down over and over, hands squeezing the breasts together so that it was encased by her own soft, sensitive flesh. She could feel every inch of its weird, wonderful motion against her skin, lubricated by her own perspiration. She moaned again without meaning to, could not stop moaning, feeling impossibly hot, impossibly receptive. She did not even know what she wanted anymore - no, that was a lie, she wanted this, needed it, whatever it was. She was nearly frightened (or would have been, if rational thought was still possible) by how intensely she hungered for it, as fundamentally and irresistibly as an animal hungers.
She had no words for this ache, this exquisite, urgent desire. The space between her legs was a white-hot coal beneath the red-hot furnace of her body. The creature's hand stroked once more, into that white-hot heat, and Briar Rose bucked, inviting the lightning now: greedy for it, bucking again and again and again, her moans becoming high and frantic, nearly whimpering with desperation for she knew not what. The sliding motion between her breasts intensified as she moaned, and the hand did not release her again: it now wormed its fingers into her, and she screamed through her gag, not in pain but in agonized delight. She arched her back as far as it could go without a conscious thought, muscles taut as if gripped by an electric current. As she thrust her hips against the stroking fingers, she leaned forward, pressing her bosom into the grinding hardness, pressing desperately as if she were trying to take it into her chest - feeling as though no amount of pressure could satisfy her hunger for it. The restraining tension of her bindings caused her nearly calamitous frustration. She heaved and strained against the ropes like an animal, her wrists twisting frantically - but as they held her secure still she continued convulsing, bucking her hips with all her might and screaming her muffled approval into the gag. She felt the sting of tears at how unimaginably good it was, how it kept climbing and climbing and climbing, and at how she was being conquered-
Yes, that was the thing, against rational logic somehow that enhanced it all: the sensation of resisting but being easily mastered, of having fought furiously and discovered how outmatched she was, how trivially her captors could overpower the absolute limits of her feminine strength. She let out a final moaning scream as she felt the hard thing cushioned between her breasts begin to pulsate, throbbing while it pistoned up and down. As she feverishly matched tempo with the thrusting of her hips, something warm and fluid began to spill against her bare, straining chest, not in a continuous stream but in rhythmic pulses, and she was carried away in delirious ecstasy - yet she wildly thought no, not there, it's supposed to be DOWN, supposed to be IN-
"Enough!"
Briar Rose was not ready for it to be over, nowhere near ready, and as her assailants stopped their work she heard herself actually whimper with disappointment, her hips slowing but still bucking irregularly as the groping hands and delectable sensations withdrew. She could still feel that warm viscous fluid on her chest - it oozed between her heaving breasts and down to her quivering belly, cooling as it went. The pounding of her own heartbeat in her head lessened to manageable levels, and she opened her eyes for the first time in over three minutes. She was still kneeling, trussed in the center of the parlor floor, barefoot and naked apart from her skirt - she noted with dull unconcern a visibly damp patch over her groin - and although the immediate, animalistic joy she'd experienced was already fading she remained unnaturally warm, glistening with perspiration and trembling uncontrollably as she allowed herself to slump into her bindings, hanging almost limp and basking in the afterglow.
The raven in the rafters cawed a final time.
A tall figure she had not yet seen melted out of the shadows, and in spite of herself Briar Rose felt a momentary pang of fear. It was a humanoid shape, tall and slender, dressed in draping black robes and with a head crowned in wicked horns, like a demon. The voice that had spoken had been female…
"Well, well… this is a pleasant surprise," the woman crooned, producing a candle from beneath a shroud. Its light illuminated a face that was beautiful and elegant, but somehow leeringly evil. "I set my trap for a peasant, and lo! I catch a princess!"
The monsters ringing the room jeered. At a gesture from the woman who apparently led them, the creatures holding her ropes moved forward again, but not to violate her - this time they set to work adjusting the restraints, loosening them slightly to get slack to work with, and then fine-tuning the bindings, mostly by moving them up from her waist to secure her upper arms against her torso. Several coils were looped and re-tied above and below her naked bosom, her round breasts still ruddy with blushing. Briar Rose did not even offer a token struggle; the knots were too tight and numerous, and she was still half-dazed with the aftermath of euphoria. The ropes creaked as they tightened stiffly into her naked flesh, gliding easily over accumulated sweat, making deep imprints in her natural curves. Her breasts swelled a little at the added pressure, and she felt a slight resurgent tingle between her legs, the barest hint of the shattering ecstasy that had so recently been forced on her - she pressed her thighs in against each other in involuntary response, as if to cling to the sensation, to hold it in. When the creatures were finished, they tugged on her leash to encourage her into a standing posture. Her shaking legs could barely support her,
The horned woman regarded her further. "Such a beauty you've become. And yet what an interesting reaction to the… hmm… handling of my servants. Pure, chaste, virtuous Princess Aurora, indeed!" she laughed. "Away with her - there is no more need to capture the peasant. She will do much better. But gently, my pets, gently. There will be time for further recreation when you have brought her home."
Briar Rose was regaining more rational thought with every passing second, and becoming more aware of the seriousness of her situation. She made a few pointless twists and strains against the impassive strength of her captors as they began marching her out of the cottage, and managed to feel concerned about the uncertain fate they led her to. But there remained a part of her - and not quite a small part anymore - which, when it heard this last comment, shivered with something almost like impatience.
