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The Wicked Stepmother	By : Ksennin Category: M through R > Once Upon A Time Views: 41904 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time nor any of the show's characters. I make no money from publishing this work.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
As a little girl, the machines keeping her father alive had scared Emma. She thought of them as a prison keeping him from her. But as she got older, they became reassuring. The ventilator, the IV drip, the heart monitor—a little workplace of lazy activity that replaced the tapping finger, the blinking eye. They were David's signs of life.
Emma looked at his chart, now well-versed in all the ways it said he wasn't waking up. Nothing out of place. Everything in order. She set it down and looked her father in his shut eyes.
"Dad… I'm gay."
As she'd suspected, it was easier telling him than Mary-Margaret. And he seemed to be taking it well. Although if he had woken up then, yelling about grandchildren, she'd be straight again out of sheer gratitude. Or at least bisexual.
Not that she thought David would have a problem with it, if he were awake. Mary-Margaret certainly didn't. She watched Ellen, and the only problem she'd had with Brokeback Mountain was that they'd used the F word. But it was different when it was your daughter.
Hell, Emma had nothing against gay people and it was different when it was her. She felt like she'd been drafted into some big, nebulous cause, one that was betrayed when she liked Hercules better than Xena or played tennis instead of soccer.
David hadn't replied, so it was up to her to keep the conversation going. "I know, right? Came as a shock to me too. I met this girl. No, woman. And you know how you always wanted me to marry a dentist or a lawyer? Well, she's the mayor. You can't do much better than that."
She sat down on the bed. She couldn't even remember what his voice sounded like, but at times like these, she could imagine she felt his presence. This kind of warmth; it took away pain. "I've never felt this way before. I really want her—I want to be with her. At first, I just liked spending time with her, I thought it was because she was so smart and cool, but now, all I can think about is… doing stuff. And don't get all judgmental about stuff, because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be here if you hadn't… eww, now I'm thinking about it. Aaand we're both grossed out."
Emma stood up and set about pacing. She was successful in not thinking about Regina only in so far as she thought of Ruby instead. Go see Regina. Go see her.
She shook herself to clear that away. "So here's the thing: Should I go to Regina? I haven't been back there since—I mean, I know what'll happen. I feel like if I spend just one more minute with her, I'll explode. And I can't wait; I'm eighteen already, what's there to wait for? Graduation day? College? Like anyone would care what grade I was in if they caught us together… it'd be bullshit. I'm not waiting. I'm either in or out."
She started pacing again. It felt like she couldn't control herself, like her legs were determined to bring her back to that house and she could only divert them. "Do these things ever stay secret? Would I even want that? I mean, maybe someday I'd like to go on a date at a fancy restaurant, hold hands, tongue-kiss in public. Do we ever get that? Because people would talk. They'd see me gardening for her and her giving me a car and… God, they'd be asking me to point out where she touched me on a doll. And let's not even talk about Ruby. Even if they could forgive her having one piece of jailbait in her pocket, they'd never understand two. And something like this—it comes out sooner or later. So how long would I have with her? I had no idea about her and Ruby until they practically told me. So, what, I'd have a year? A few years? And then after that… what would my life be like? Would I have to leave town? Would she come with me? Would Ruby come with us? Would we travel the country in a VW Bus, smoking reefer and protesting Vietnam?"
With an ugh, Emma dropped herself back in the visitor's chair. She covered her eyes with her hand. "I can't plan for this, okay? I'm not a planner. I just need to know if it'd be worth it. Was it worth it for you, with Mom? I don't know, maybe if you'd never met her, you wouldn't be in a coma."
She took her hand away from her face, staring up at the florescent lights droning on. People talked about 'The Light' like it was such a great thing, when it could be annoying. Painful. And she'd seen amazing things happen in the dark…
"But then, maybe you were always going to end up like this. Maybe I could go into a coma, drop dead of a brain aneurysm, or get hit by a meteor. At least you have pleasant dreams… so maybe this sends me to Purgatory when I die. At least I'll have memories of her."
Emma kissed David on the forehead. As always, his skin felt like stone. Cold and worn smooth. "I'll go do her gardening tomorrow. We'll see what she does."

As soon as she fell asleep, Emma was dreaming that she was horseback riding with the Queen. She was naked; the Queen had told her it would help her get used to riding. She didn't remember undressing, just the look on the Queen's lovely face. Her beaming approval. Then, with a hand from the Queen, she was back in the saddle.
It felt so different, the saddle and the horseflesh against her naked flesh, but that paled in comparison to having the Queen at her back as they rode the same horse. Regina ready to take the reins if she lost control. Her dress was as soft on Emma's skin as a loving touch.
Belle's hide rippled in the dying sunlight like a pond settling down after a pebble had been thrown in. She pranced and trotted as if showing off, and Emma could just imagine her taking a graceful leap as ably as a bird. Every prancing step sent a quaking through her body that only seemed to end where the Queen's arms were wrapped securely about her waist. It took her breath away, sharing this with the Queen. It really did.
The air was cool and moist in the evening. She felt it everywhere, but especially keenly on her breasts, seeming to lave her with each rise and fall of breath. Her nipples tightened and rose of their own accord, sending stinging feelings through her chest. An answering tingle between her legs was her clit, rubbing against the saddle horn as she bobbed up and down on Belle's back.
"Faster, dear," the Queen said in her ear. Not an order; Regina was so used to being obeyed that she knew she only had to ask. "Ride like all the armies of wicked Snow White are upon us. Show me how you'd save your Queen from death and disgrace."
Emma cracked the reins, swearing she could feel the air they displaced brushing across her skin. She was conscious of her whole body, aware of the heated gasps of excitement it produced in illicit pleasure. Her flesh was aquiver; shaking itself to pieces from the fast pace her mount was setting. The Queen's leather riding glove, as cold as ice, traced her spine.
"Close to the saddle, my love," her Queen suggested, gentle as an errant whisper. "You want to go faster, don't you?"
Emma followed the prompting of the Queen's hand, as if bowing to her. She bent her head over the mane of her wondrous, obedient pet and felt its hair ply her hot breasts. The Queen followed suit, bending herself over Emma like she was sheltering her from harm, like they were two spoons in a drawer.
With just one tiny crack of the reins, Belle was whinnying and taking them faster. Hooves thundering at an awesome gallop. The jolts it produced shook Emma like bomb-blasts. Her crotch felt very wet as it was mashed against the smooth leather of her saddle, feeling like a perfect cupping hand had reached between her legs to relieve the awful pressure she felt. She sighed in delight, the sound stolen away by the air rushing past. Her thighs were spasming uncontrollably.
"Oh! You're going to knock me off!" the Queen whimpered in mock-fear. She took one hand, the one still in its glove, away from Emma's waist. Left the other splayed across Emma's belly. Her free hand wrapped around the saddle horn. Now the gloriously hard leather seemed to thump against Emma's ready clit, as if being driven by Regina. Emma swallowed hard, wishing for a quick orgasm to banish her arousal. But it was denied her, Belle's muscular flanks pumping below her, sending the saddle humping up against her needy sex, keeping her teetered on the brink of climax.

"Woah girl," Regina said, nails scratching chidingly across Emma's stomach. Emma imagined the cool heat of their sharpness going lower, raking over her cunt, her clit, teasing her before going inside. “Not that fast…”
Emma had enjoyed the friction of the saddle against her bare crotch so much that she'd allowed Belle free rein, letting the ride take her hard, harder, like a lover bound for release. Now she pulled back on the reins, urging slowness. Her sex was left sensitive to the lightest touch. The gentle, knowing slap of her hard saddle upon her womanhood had her trembling, throbbing, dripping.

"Easy, girl, easy," Emma soothed, tugging once more on the reins. Their flight had taken them inside a deep, dark forest, where a stray branch might knock them from the saddle. If Snow White really were upon them, here they would lose her.
Emma turned, nearly shaking in anticipation, to see her Queen's face. The Queen smiled beatifically. Her fingers stroked Emma's belly, dipping into her navel. “That's it, good girl… Steady now…”
The slowdown had set Emma on a plateau, keeping her pleasure on an even keel even as it started up again, pulling her higher, higher. She couldn’t look the Queen in the eye anymore, not with all she was feeling. So the young princess leaned forward. She bent herself nearly double to grip Belle around the neck. Her swollen clit met the firmness of the saddle horn and her breasts scraped against the pony's prickling hair, like a bundle of wires torturing her fair skin.
The Queen seemed to enjoy the show. “That's right..." she said, clicking her heels to keep Belle going at a trot, keep the vibrations pulsing through Emma's young body. "Just so…”
Just as Emma was getting used to the pain and pleasure the Queen was using to wring her out, she felt the bare and leathered hands of Regina on her hips. They were lifting her up, her bare ass sticking for a moment to the saddle with some of the fluids she'd shed. The riding glove, as cold as ever, swiped a finger along her pussy. The pleasure was exquisite, cutting through her world like a scalpel. Her Queen was being generous.
"Faster now," the Queen said, fully amused with herself. Her hands lowered Emma's body back down. Emma only realized she was sitting down on the saddle horn as it was plunging into her slick passage. The pleasure popped inside her like a wineskin filled too full.
Then she felt a leather tongue travel down her face, over her chest, and off her nipple. The Queen had a riding crop. "Ya," Regina said dryly.
With a slick crack, the crop came down on Belle's flank. The horse sped up, faster motion bringing Emma new pleasure as the saddle horn jogged inside her pussy. It went places Emma hadn't explored, and she whipped her hips around to take it. She pushed herself madly against the hard leather, grinding and twisting herself on it; over her shoulder, her Queen grinned in approval.
"I think you've been in control long enough. I'll take the reins now."
The Queen wrapped her arms possessively around Emma to hold the reins. When she cracked them, she rubbed their frayed leather over Emma's clit. Emma squealed, the noise blending with the agitated whinny of Belle as the Queen rhythmically tapped the horse with her riding crop as well. It was the same sort of motion she used on Emma.
Belle swished her head back and forth, tail flashing from side to side, hooves pawing the earth. The jerky motions sent ripples right through Emma. Her thighs were clamped down on the pony's sides, her sex flush against the inundated saddle, the saddle horn deep inside her. Emma swayed, repeatedly almost losing her balance if not for Regina's fierce embrace of her. Dizzily, she latched her arms to Belle's neck, leaving only room for the Queen's hands between horse and rider, the Queen and the ceaseless activity of the reins. Leather and bare fingers raked her clit, leaving her no choice but to come.
Everything turned both soft and edged, the prickle of Belle's hide against her skin somehow a wondrous massage. She bucked just as Belle was, her golden hair flying over her bare back and across the Queen's smiling face. The world spun.
"I'm coming," she whimpered, feeling the Queen's lips on her neck, as sharp an incitement as a riding crop ever was.
She rode Belle as if the pony were a bucking bronco, hard jerking thrusts pushing the saddle horn deeper and deeper into her, ramming it into a spot that sent shocks up her body and then dragging it back off. Then, quite clearly, she heard the Queen's crop strike again.
Emma held onto Belle's neck for her life as the pony reared up, sandwiching Emma between the saddle and the Queen. It forced the saddle horn as deep inside her as it had ever gone, and she felt herself gush.
"Give your queen… her royal due," Regina whispered in her ear. They came back down, Belle's hooves firmly thumping on the ground. The saddle horn jerked once more inside Emma and the girl came, or came again, she couldn't tell anymore. Seized by her orgasm, she felt herself slip from the saddle.
Regina grabbed her hand, then slowly lowered her down, finally letting go. Emma slipped down like melting butter, landing in a stack of hay. The Queen had brought her back to the stables and Emma hadn't even noticed.
The brisk feel of the hay on her skin gave her a rush. She came down from the insurmountable heights of her orgasm like she was jumping off a cliff, finding goose bumps dotting her body, sweat washing out her skin, air refusing to settle in her lungs. She was a living mess, and she only had one thought.
"More!"
The Queen appeared totally spent herself. Her body hung atop the saddle like a wet garment strung up on a clothesline, slumped back with knees pressed close like she was protecting her sex—or hiding what Emma had done to it.
In one smooth motion, she dismounted, standing over Emma with the riding crop white-knuckled in her bare hand. "You never answered my question, princess. Do you want to get fucked?"
Emma finally felt herself able to take a deep breath. "More than anything."

The Queen rapped her hiding crop in her other hand. "Spread your legs. Belle's done being ridden for the day. I do believe it's your turn."
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The Wicked Stepmother