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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
That was when Emma woke up.
She sat up in bed, her skin awash with sweat, her hair practically dripping with it. Without her bedsheet covering her, she could feel the air flicker against her moist skin. But one place in particular. Between her legs.
That wasn't sweat. Emma had soaked through both her panties and the sweatpants she'd worn to bed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd come so hard.
Wait… as a matter of fact, she could. It was when Regina had massaged her. She hadn't even been at first base, not really, and yet it'd practically been monsoon season.
Emma checked her clock. She'd come home from the diner and felt so drained from talking with Ruby that she'd just fallen into bed. It was eight o'clock. Mary-Margaret would be at a parent-teacher conference all night. God forbid she walk in on this. She had time to strip her bed, put new sheets on, and get the old ones in the washer.
"Oh shit!" she'd gotten out of bed too fast and now she felt her legs trembling like she'd just stepped off a roller coaster. She leaned against a bedpost, trying to catch her suddenly lacking breath. She could've sworn her pussy was boiling over.
Emma reached down to feel it, just to relieve the pressure, and even now she was surprised to feel how wet she was. And how good her finger felt, just lightly touching her pussy. Her eyes closed. She ran her finger lower, along the lines of her labia, and a tremor shot through her, shaking her arm nearly off the bedpost supporting her. That didn't matter; if she could just make it to the wall, she could lean herself against it, spread her legs and fuck herself like a rutting animal, both hands, one in her pussy, one relieving the aching hardness of her nipples where they strained against her thin cotton tee.
"Jesus!" Emma gasped, forcing her hand away. She could've been burning up, the way she felt. She could've been absolutely on fire. "Ice water," she told herself, and concentrated only on moving her legs out the door and down the stairs. With shakes that seemed like willful insolence, they obeyed. She went down the steps with both hands on the railings.
She shuddered with each step, but when she threw open the refrigerator and felt the cold air hit her body, it calmed her down a little. At least she stopped shaking, and with an effort, she could forgot Regina kneeling over her, raising the riding crop high, about to bring it down somewhere exquisitely sensitive…
"Fuck!" Emma cried, practically humping the freezer trying to calm down. What the hell did you take to stop being a ridiculous slut? There had to be some kind of tea for that. Emma looked through the shelves and drawers, finding only things she could eat off of Regina. God, imagine Regina biting a peeled orange, the juice rolling down her chin, dripping to her breasts like an invitation to be wiped away—licked off.
Reaching absently into the vegetable drawer, Emma felt a fat cucumber in her hand. She took it out and pressed it against her face, the icy weight doing a little to distract her once more. She was going mad with thoughts of Regina, but damn, what a madness. Like sanity had anything to offer compared to how Regina made her feel.
Suddenly, she felt a new tremor, stronger than ever, run through her. Pulling the cold cucumber away from her face, she looked at it once more. She hadn't realized it, but her body had: the vegetable was just the right size to be one of the 'toys' Regina and Ruby had played with, or the Queen's royal scepter as she made Emma her princess in a painfully, perfectly intimate fashion. To be one of those dildos that women wore to fuck other women.
It was big, and very, very thick, but not intimidatingly so. More of a challenge. She could picture, in vivid detail, Regina lubing her up and gently plying her until she could take it all, telling her what a good girl she was all the while, asking how good it felt. And it would feel so… amazing.
Looking around for onlookers she knew she wouldn't find, Emma bent her head to the cucumber and gave it a peck of a kiss. There were tiny bumps on its sides; the kind that she'd read about on the dildos in some very regrettable Teen Wolf fanfiction. She kissed it again, and again, already feeling dirty. And, more importantly, feeling Regina's approving gaze on her, even if it was only in her head. To an imaginary nod from the Mayor, she took the cucumber and sucked its blunt end into her mouth. Sliding it over her wriggling tongue. Getting it wet, ready. Perfect.
"Okay," she muttered, drawing the cucumber away with a strand of saliva between them, proof of what had transpired. "Let's do this. Let's do it.."
Like a shot fired from a cannon, she ran back upstairs. Her bedroom door closed behind her; she moved some books in front of the door to bar it, her version of a lock. Regretfully, she set the cucumber down on her desk, then stripped off her T-shirt. Her breasts felt even warmer in the cool air, her nipples hard as cherry pits. When she picked the cucumber back up, she knew it was still too cold to bring her any pleasure down there. But she also knew how to fix that.
Emma held the cucumber to her breasts with a sharp intake of breasts. It was damn cold. Cold as Regina grabbing Ruby with a leather glove, or teasing her with an ice cube. She moved the cucumber around, the chill never lingering. She let it touch her breasts, her belly, her thighs. It was magnificent. She squeezed her legs tightly shut on the cucumber, wondering if that would've impressed Regina. Again, the woman flashed before her closed eyes. She imagined the Queen with her riding crop at her mouth. Who knew where it had been before, what delectable taste lingered on it.
"Nice and warm, Emma," Regina would say. "We have to thaw our food out before it goes in the oven."
Emma opened her eyes, half-expecting the Mayor to really be standing there. But all she saw was her reflection in the mirror, where she'd tried on a thousand outfits and checked her make-up a million times.
She'd never looked like this before. Naked, her body not girlish at all, but curved and flushed, sweaty and aroused, and the look on her face one she'd never cultivated. Wanton. Lustful. Greedy. She brought the cucumber to her mouth and licked it. It looked exactly how she'd thought it would look. Slutty. And she knew Regina would be impressed by that.

"You know the warmest place to put it," Regina whispered in her ear, from wherever she was. "You know where you're burning."
The cucumber moved between Emma's breasts. She rolled them together, trapping the cucumber inside, its coldness forgotten as her cleavage burned hotter.
"Yes, Emma. Get it nice and hot." Was that Regina's riding crop, clenched tightly at her side? Tapping against her leg like it was keeping time? Would Regina fuck herself on its thick, blunt handle at the same time Emma took the cucumber inside herself, sharing the arousal, working toward the same orgasm?
Emma rolled the tip of the cucumber around their nipples. Their hardness became painful, but she didn't mind. She was building up a very high tolerance for pain.
"Take off your pants," the Regina in her head ordered, the riding crop rubbing at the corner of her mouth as she spoke. "Now. Set the cucumber aside, my lovely little chick."
Reluctantly, Emma set the cucumber down on her desk. She faced the mirror again, as if it were one-way glass with Regina on the other end. Watching her. Only her. Meeting her own lustful eyes, Emma peeled her sweatpants and panties away. When she saw her golden pubic hair, turned dark by moisture, a blast of lust hit her dead-center. It was like she was watching someone else in the mirror. Someone she was going to fuck.
"The cucumber again," Regina instructed. Emma picked it back up. It was cool to the touch, but just barely. It was ready and so was she.
Emma sat down on the bed. Her reflection looked nervous for a moment, but only a moment. Her legs spread. She didn't think about it, they just did. She saw her cunt, pink and wet, come into view. It was hers, but seeing it was shocking. Obscene, almost.
Somehow, she liked obscene.
"You want to see me fuck myself with this?" she asked herself, the mirror, Regina. The word sounded heavy and real out of her lips. Fuck. "You want to see me come all over this?"
The riding crop snapped to, a little short of her ear. A reminder that only one of them was in control. "Why waste time on silly questions? You know what I want to see. The same thing as you do." And there it was. Emma could never touch herself in a brightly lit room, on top of the covers, watching herself in a mirror. But if it was what Regina wanted…
When she touched the cucumber to the lips of her pussy, it was perfectly chilled, like ice water after a long run or the first bite of a chocolate sundae. She gasped regardless, knowing Regina would like the sound. Her hand went to her breast, still cool from holding the vegetable. The contrast between her palm and her tit felt so huge that she could imagine steam coming off her body. Her body heaving, shaking out of control, she thrust the cucumber inside.
It hurt like hell. She'd thought she'd been wet enough to take all of it; she damn sure wanted to. But fuck, it felt three times bigger than it looked!
"Woah girl," Regina said, whispering soothingly as Emma painfully drew the intruder away from her tender flesh. "Not that fast… slow down…"
Emma set the cucumber aside, its weight making it sink a little ways into her firm mattress. Jesus. Could she really take that thing inside her? But the shade of Regina just toyed with her crop, plying its end back and forth as she offered Emma a wan smile.
"Giddy-up," she ordered.
Emma's hands returned to her breasts, nice and slow, her fingers plying her ready body as playfully, as effectively, as Regina would use her riding crop. Her body responded; she felt the pain she'd incurred fade into a warm feeling of bliss. A warm, moist feeling. She squeezed her breasts harder, pinched her nipples tighter, and slowly, in its own due time, a hand strayed down to once more explore the crevice of her thighs.
"Faster now," Regina called, bending the crop to its limit. "Let's stretch our legs."
Emma parted her lips and ran her tongue over them slowly. She imagined Regina kissing her. She could only conjure up a hazy feeling, a flash of heat and pleasure, of suddenly feeling experienced beyond her years—the kiss she'd had a waking dream of as she slept in Regina's bed. But then, was it a dream, when it felt so much realer than anything else?
She couldn't even imagine Regina's full, perfect lips touching hers, but she didn't have to imagine Regina using a dildo, a strap-on, a cock to fuck her. She had one right beside her. Emma scooted down the bed as if making room for Regina, then spread her legs. She could smell her own arousal, heady and thick in the air. She imagined the barest touch of the riding crop against her wet pussy, then Regina carrying it away from Emma's body and her pouting expression, only to run it over her outstretched tongue. A master chef sampling her work.
Emma picked up the cucumber. It was so phallic—pornographic, really. Regina cleared her throat, breaking Emma's reverie. The riding crop was pointed at the nightstand, where Emma kept a bottle of dry skin lotion.
"Would that really work?" Emma started to ask Regina, before remembering she was imagining her. God, Regina really was driving her crazy. Next she'd start seeing fairies.
She picked up the bottle. Nothing on the back about it being "for external use only," which was corporate-speak meaning not for sex. Setting the cucumber on her thigh—it nearly reached her knee, holy shit—she squirted a big blotch out into her hand. Then she scooped the cucumber up and… got it ready.
"That's it," Regina said, flicking her crop up and down the cucumber as well. "It's not too big. You just need to be… well-prepared."
"It's so big…"
"My fist's even bigger. You think Ruby took that?"
Emma looked at Regina. The figment of her imagination winked.
The hell of it was, if she asked Ruby, the bitch would tell her.
The cucumber was dripping with… lubricant. It was lubricant. Emma brought it to… her pussy. Those were the words for them. Lubricant and pussy. That was what Regina would call them. Gathering herself, she pressed the big, fat, thick, monstrous cucumber into the soft gold down of her pussy. Into the hungry lips of her sex. Her legs opened wide. Her thighs quivered. Her mouth dropped open as she felt it inside her, a great big fucker.

"R-regina." Like an invocation, the name summoned pleasure. She could just picture the Mayor leaning over her, examining her deflowering with feigned disinterest, but behind her eyes… in her twitching lips… all the lust of the world was there.
"Good girl," Regina would say, running the riding crop… oh, Emma couldn't even think of where she'd put it. "Good girl…"
Whimpering now, Emma felt her hips move of their own accord, undulating as if… yes, as if at the urging of Regina's invisible crop. She felt herself slowly stretching, malleable, pliable, moving to accommodate an invasion. Just as she would for Regina. She'd submit to Regina, be bent over, spread open, pushed down, hoisted up. And the cucumber went deeper and deeper. And she opened for it, so eagerly. Like she'd been waiting for it all this time.
"Fuck!" Emma called, a cry, a wish, and the recurring realization of just how big her phantom lover was. She'd gotten only an inch inside herself, less even then when she fingered herself in the shower, but she felt like she'd been stretched to the limit. Then—she could've sworn—she felt Regina's riding crop sting her still hips.
"Take it," Regina ordered. "Stop being a little bitch and take it."

Emma had to obey. Regina was more than just some fantasy. She was all Emma's hidden desires, her needs, her wants, her fearless dreams. Emma couldn't control her, nor disobey her. She could only let Regina, real or imagined, have her way with her.
The mouth of her sex felt more comfortable now, a few moments later, as if her very flesh answered to Regina. She pressed the cucumber deeper, without hesitation, and there was another shot of pain ringing through her body. But less then before, receding on waves of warm, pleasant relaxation. And soon, even that went away, replaced with pure excitement. Pleasure.
"I wish you were here," Emma moaned, closing her eyes so she could see only Regina. "Because the only way I'd stop fucking myself with this cucumber is if I could pull it out and make you taste me on it." She didn't even sound like herself to her own ears.
Regina put the riding crop to her mouth, silencing her. "How can I ride my favorite horsey when she's flat on her back like a two-dollar whore earning her wages?"
Emma obeyed this strange loop in her head, imagining what Regina would say and then doing as she'd say and getting off on both. She rolled onto all fours, her legs bent at the knee, one elbow planted in the mattress, her free hand white-knuckled on the cucumber. Her sex was up in the air, completely exposed. Presented for Regina's enjoyment.
"Hi-ho Silver," Regina said cheerily. "Away."
Emma's hips swayed. Her knees bent. She rode the cucumber like it was… like it was a stallion.
"A ride fit for a queen," Regina praised, tracing the riding crop over Emma's pussy as it eagerly embraced the cucumber. "Or a princess—stop there!" She commanded suddenly, the crop flicking against Emma's ass. "Pull back. Just a little. Now back in…"
Emma's legs almost slipped out from under her as she dragged the cucumber out… then obeyed Regina, to the letter. Forcing it just a little, she tried going deeper. It wouldn’t happen. She was still too tight, too clenched, and if it weren't for the crop soothingly stroking her lower back, she'd think she'd failed Regina.
"Yes. Just so. Not all at once, no, just a little at a time. Just the tip. And we go deeper every time, Emma… deeper and faster… all the time… just like that."
Emma obeyed. She obeyed every little word that dropped from Regina's perfect lips. The cucumber seemed to go in mere millimeters at a time, each time with a twinge of pain and a flush, a much larger flush, of pleasure.
"Ride, Emma. Faster. Faster."

Emma nodded to herself as the lips of her cunt slid over the cucumber. It went in easier now, like it wanted to be inside her. She opened her eyes. There was Regina below her, her fingers locked with Emma's, holding the cucumber for her to fuck herself on.
"Ride me."
"Fuh-faster!" Emma wasn't sure who was giving the orders anymore, who was taking them. All she knew was that she couldn't stop speaking, moaning, sighing, fucking. She bent over her supporting forearm like she was leaning against a horse's neck, imagining that power—Regina's power—inside her legs. "Faster, Regina! Carry me away!"
She was responding more and more to the masturbation, losing herself in it. Her whole body felt like it was seething, giving into this fantasy. She could still feel the sting of the riding crop as well as the tingle where Regina had used it for a tender touch. She bucked wildly on the bed, crooning away as the feverish work continued below her, inside her.
It felt amazing, yet bitter. She could never quite forget that it wasn't real. She was only fucking herself because Regina wasn't. And no matter how vividly she fantasized that it was Regina's hand reaming her virgin cunt or imagined that Regina could hear the incoherent murmurs of her name, it remained pure fantasy. Yet above it all, even the realization, was Regina's voice, keeping her masturbation going like a metronome.
"Steady now... that's it… that's right... just so… good girl… such a good girl…"
Somehow, that spoiled it, kept her from completion. She imagined Regina entering her room on some errand, finding her lewdly exposed, being overcome with lust, ripping the cucumber away and replacing it with her lips. Or a horse, a powerful stallion, galloping faster than the wind, obeying only her, the only rider who could mount her.
Then she felt the supreme pain, something blocking the cucumber from going any deeper. Something keeping her a virgin. And it was fragile, she knew. The work of a painful second to end it.
"Do it!" Regina cried, and the riding crop was snapping again, going up and down, but not on Emma, on herself, on her cunt. She was punishing herself, fucking herself, right next to Emma, about to come with her. "Now! Do it now! Ya! Ya!"
Emma couldn't deny Regina anything. Not one thing.
But that was when she heard her mother opening the door to her bedroom.
It caught on the books she'd piled in front of it, opening only a crack, giving Emma time to throw her naked body beneath the sheets. She was wrenched in spasms, gasping and twitching as her hands flew off her overheated skin. The cucumber came out of her with a wet sucking noise, like it was reluctant to leave, and fell between her legs. She covered it with her bed sheet as Mary-Margaret pushed the books out of the way.
All she saw was Emma's head and feet, sticking out of the tangled linen.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were asleep. Thanks to your friend the mayor, our meeting wrapped up early. I got fudge brownie ice cream if you want any."
One part of Emma's mind still had Emma's riding crop burnt into it like a brand. She would've given anything to still be feeling the wicked pain from a rapping right now. "That's okay," Emma said at length, forcing herself to take long, deep breaths.
"And have you seen a cucumber anywhere? I bought one to make a salad and I can't seem to find it anywhere."
Emma tried to contain herself as she thought of just where it was, and where it had been. Sweat bloomed on her forehead. "I'll keep an eye out for it."
"Do you feel hot?" Mary-Margaret asked, suddenly concerned. She crossed the room, hand outstretched for Emma's forehead. "You look like you're running a fever…"
Emma pulled the covers up to her chin. "Mom, I'm fine! I just want to get back to sleep."
Her mother paused over Emma, running her lip between her teeth. "Alright, sweetie," she said at last, and kissed Emma's head. Emma closed her eyes and tried to erase the lingering memory, fantasy, of Regina. It had all felt great—fucking great. "Pleasant dreams!"
Emma forced her eyes open. "You too, Ma."
Thankfully, Mary-Margaret shut the door behind her. Emma waited five minutes, or tried to—she was out of bed in two, throwing on clothes. She had to see Regina, right now.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Wicked Stepmother