The real Mother Goose

Father Goose gave him a brief nod. “This, and all portals. We are the guardians of the gate. It has always been so with our kind, until it was stolen from us generations ago. We know not by whom.”

“No!” George, frustrated by the lack of action on the part of the King’s men, reached for a sword and wrestled one free. It was too heavy for the man, but he struggled forward with it, determined. “You do not deserve it! It’s mine! Give it to me!” His eyes moved toward Mother, who stood staring at her husband, as stunned by his revelations as the rest of them. “Give her to me!” Father Goose disarmed him with one swift twist of the man’s wrist, but his more impressive move, the one that made the crowd gasp in shock and awe, was the shrugging off of his cloak, and the impossible sprouting of two enormous white wings from his now-bare shoulder blades. No one had ever seen him in his real form before except Mother herself, and even she was taken over by the shock of it.

“Men!” King Cole seemed to come to life in that moment. “Seize him!’

“Finally!” George panted, trying to shake the giant bird-man’s hold on him, but was unable.

“Not that one!” The King shook his head as the knights moved toward Father Goose. “The other-the little fat treasonous liar who has been feeding me poison in my ear for months!”

“No!” George wailed as the King’s men grabbed onto him, but his struggles were no match. They hauled him quickly from the room, leaving a stunned silence that all of them felt quite deeply.

“I remember the stories.” King Cole stepped forward, his face reddened, his demeanor apologetic. “My grandmother’s grandmother told her, even wrote some of them down. Your kind was always welcome here.”

Father Goose inclined his head at the man. “Now we are to be hunted and killed and denied passage between worlds, then?”

“I apologize. I was misinformed.” The King flushed. “You are free.”

“Yes, we are.” Artan reached his hand back for his wife, and Mother went to him.

He glanced down, smiling at her, and whispered, “Reveal yourself.”

“No…” She shook her head, glancing around the room. To do so, here, in front of everyone? But his eyes commanded her, and she took a deep breath, throwing off her own cloak and slowly unveiling her own set of white wings to the gasping amazement of the rest of the hall.

“Father and Mother Goose, indeed.” The Queen of Hearts stepped forward, smiling. “Welcome home.”

“Now, I’d like you to release my charges.” Artan glanced up at the ceiling. “I would like to take them home, and then I will set them free.”

“Free?” The King raised his eyebrows, and Father Goose fixed him with a long, challenging stare. The rotund man cleared his throat and shrugged. “Well…of course.

You’re free to do what you wish with them.”

Artan’s huge wings flapped slowly, pushing him aloft, and he rose to the young woman still hanging off the precipice of the arch. Jill groaned when he snapped her chains-his strength was incredible in his current form-and collapsed into his arms.

Mother rose above the flames of the chandelier to unfasten Jack, careful with the leather strap around his cock as well, releasing the pressure gradually, making him groan with both pleasure and pain.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as she floated them back down to the ground, and she smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Time to go home, little one,” she murmured, looking over at her husband. He nodded, folding his wings up tight as he carried the girl from the hall, out into the bright moonlight of the courtyard. His wife followed him, carrying her own charge, and then together, Mother and Father Goose spread their wings wide and flew toward home.

* * * *

He had her suspended by the strong muscles of her wings, spread wide, white down splayed, her toes barely touching the floor. And he was torturing her. Slow, sweet, aching torture, the sort her body had remembered and longed for. Artan slipped the crop between her newly shaved pussy lips-she couldn’t believe how sensitive she was there now, the exposure making her feel swollen and ready all the time-his breath hot in her ear.

“Have you had enough, love?”

She gasped as the crop, the tip now wet, slapped the side of her hip, leaving an immediate red mark.

“Never.”

He chuckled, his gaze searching her face, flushed and hot, gauging her readiness.

“What if I told you I couldn’t stand another moment?” he asked, the crop following the curve of her waist upward, dipping under her breast, over her nipple, clamped and chained to its pair.

Mother smirked, her eyes bright. “I win.”

Father Goose gave a low growl, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her hard, his tongue plunging deep, making her moan. His cock pressed her belly and she ground her hips forward, her pussy searching, but he moved back just enough to keep it out of her reach.