The Dark One Comes Forth (But Regina Comes First) (Patreon)

“That’s what that feels like, in case you were wondering,” Regina said, as Emma found herself suddenly in what she presumed to be the bedroom Arthur had given Regina. She’d blinked and then just been there, like she’d gotten black-out drunk or something… but from the way Regina was brandishing the Dagger, Emma guessed she’d just been summoned.

“I wasn’t wondering, thanks,” Emma said insincerely, crossing her arms. But grinning, slightly haplessly. It’d only been a day, but it’d felt like ten years, and seeing Regina again—especially alone—was such a relief from arguing with Rumpel… or whoever was in her head. Tyler Durden.

“Good. Then we can move on to the second item on the agenda: where’d you get those clothes?”

Emma looked down at the dress she’d had on ever since she’d appeared in the Enchanted Forest. Serving wench chic. “I… have no idea. Is it important?”

Regina canted her head to the side. “Not really. Except that I think they look awful on you. Take them off.”

Emma knew what Regina was getting at. The woman seemed to love teasing and testing and prodding her way into sex, tricking Emma into her bed or her shower or some state of undress, then abruptly kissing her and oh, they were fucking.

Not that Emma minded, much, but she knew it was Regina getting off on manipulating her and she tried not to go along with it too much for fear of swelling Regina’s head. Or because she was suddenly the Dark One.

“Now? Seriously?”

Regina shrugged eloquently. “You’re under a lot of stress. A lot of tension. You need a release, the same way I have in the past.”

“And that way was—frequently?” Emma teased. There’d been days in the Mills household—while Henry was on camping trips with the local Boy Scout troop—that pants had been worn less often than not.

“Some women would take all that attention as a compliment. I certainly didn’t have relations with Maleficent nearly so often.”

“Thanks for the update.”

“I mean, it’s not like she wasn’t up for it—“

“Yes, thanks, got it.”

“And when she brought Cruella over…”

“Seriously!?”

Regina smiled, clearly pleased with herself over having gotten a rise out of Emma. Emma, consequently, was a bit peeved to be jarred from her brooding. It was perversely satisfying, and seemed like the best way to keep Tyler Durden at bay.

“Don’t be too shocked, dear. I am being a little discrete. Otherwise, you’d find out what Ursula could do with her tentacles.”

“I can imagine.”

“You really can’t.” Regina bit her lip. “I believe I gave you a command, Emma. Take off your clothes.” She gave the Dagger a shake. “Does this thing need new batteries or something?”

“C’mon, Regina, you’re not really going to make me strip for you against my will.”

Regina thought about it. “True. We do usually have a safe word for that sort of thing. Maybe we should try a new one. I think ‘please’ might work, given your new situation…”

“I am not… Regina, come on! You can’t still—“

“Still what?” Regina asked.

“Still want to be with me. I’m dangerous and evil and almost killed Merida! He’s like Henry’s favorite Disney princess that he’s not related to!”

Regina waved her hand dismissively. “She was a ginger. Who’d hold it against you?”

“Regina!”

“You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. If you want a pep talk about how light will always triumph over darkness, I think even the Dwarves could manage it. But if you want someone to show you how loved you are—in the only language you’ll really listen to—then take off your clothes. Or better yet, just bend over.”

Emma ran her tongue over her lips quickly—they felt so dry when she heard Regina’s voice dip into that low register, the voice of the Queen addressing her subjects. Regina caught the gesture, eyebrows twitching as she started at Emma’s moistened lips in a way that seemed just obscene.

Emma did feel better after their sessions. She’d been nervous when they first tried it—she’d never done anything really kinky, not when most of the men she dated (or ‘dated’) pinged the creepmeter whenever the topic came up. But Regina had started making some pointed comments about handcuffs and one night, in bed together, Regina had relaxed Emma with a backrub, gotten her to admit that once she’d caught a bail jumper, handcuffed her in the backseat, and she’d offered Emma a lot to let her go. Hadn’t been wearing underwear. Had spread her legs and rattled her handcuffs, promising, always promising—

Emma hadn’t done it, of course, but it’d made for some interesting showers in the next few weeks. And hearing Emma admit it, Regina had been eager to try out that scenario. Emma wouldn’t have ever thought Regina could bottom, but she was totally willing to be subservient, seeing it as some way to demonstrate how special Emma was to her. Or just to eventually convince Emma to bottom for her, and then she’d really had fun.

After the business with the Snow Queen, it’d seemed like they’d spent hours with Emma spread-eagled on the bed, totally bound, Regina torturing her with pleasure until Emma could believe nothing else but that she was loved, not a freak or a monster or wrong, just Regina’s.

And now Regina was offering that again. They were a pair of control freaks, just in different ways. It took effort to pry control from Emma, get her to let go of her stubborn independence, but once she gave it up, nothing soothed her like having someone else dominate her, use her, love her.

And with the way Regina worried about her, nothing soothed the Mayor more than being able to hold Emma down and protect her from her own demons, force Emma to see that even at their very worst, she loved Emma, whether in the dark guise of the Queen or the softer, more affectionate way they usually made love.

Emma wanted to feel that way again. Stuffed with love, filled it, Regina’s affection so strong and so overwhelming that it was almost too much. But Emma could always take it.

“Use the Dagger,” Emma said, finally seeing Regina’s plan, agreeing with it. “Show me how you control me. Show me how you love me.”

“Then get on the bed,” Regina proclaimed, now holding the Dagger firmly, knowing exactly how to use it. “Show me that ass. I want to inspect my property.”

Emma resisted the impulse to obey—just to see if she could—but it was strangely relaxing, like her muscles reacting to a hot bath. She relaxed over the bed, pushing her ass into the air, feeling no strain as she held the pose. She didn’t mind being under control as long as it was Regina’s. Regina being hers canceled out her being Regina’s. For the first time since her name had appeared on the Dagger, she felt free.

Regina drew her dress over her rump, staring fixedly—Emma felt her eyes like hot coals, their gaze burning warmly over her flesh. Then Regina reached out and felt a toned cheek, squeezing it testingly. Regina’s property. Emma liked the idea, when it was this late at night. All her fuck-ups and disasters just bought out by Regina. Didn’t have to think, didn’t have to worry. Just let Regina drive…

“You know, the spell to get us here needed something you felt sentimental about,” Regina said, in that conversational tone she got when Emma was well and truly fucked. “I used your precious little baby blanket. But that wasn’t the only thing I brought. I think this would take more explanation, though…”

Emma heard the rattle, the jingle of beads unfurling and shuddered sharply. Regina had brought the fucking beads…

“Remember when I put these in you first?” Regina asked, voice rich with amusement at the memory. Emma heard her uncap a bottle; lube. “Made you go on patrol with them inside you. Finally got you to sit up straight, as I recall.”

“Gina, day’s been long enough, don’t fucking tease…”

“I’ll do as I like. I’m the Queen,” Regina said, prim despite the harshness in her tone, and Emma gasped suddenly as Regina reached in and parted her buttocks, the flat of her palm nestling in the crevice between cheeks, wet with lubricant.

Regina pushed and prodded, grinding with the heel of her hands, keeping her fingers stiff and firm. They touched Emma’s cunt, rubbing up and down, but only in passing. Regina never bent them enough to linger, much less go inside. Emma struggled not to whimper, not so soon. It suddenly felt like she’d been waiting all day for this, been born for this, was meant to hold Regina’s fingers. It was so relaxing to be nothing more than Regina’s toy, not the Savior, not the Dark One, just Regina’s…

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Regina said, her middle finger curving inward, touching Emma’s anus. Pushing inside, but weakly, never quite conquering Emma’s sphincter. It made Emma wince in pain, while still feeling maddeningly… incomplete. “I know how much you want to be good. So you’re going to be good for me. You’re going to be my good girl. Aren’t you?”

Emma knew what Regina wanted. Needed to give it to her. “I’ll be your good girl,” she moaned.

Regina pushed inside—Emma actually gasped, a harsh expelling of breath that seemed to completely empty her lungs. No matter how many times they did this, it always felt like the first time. Regina’s finger felt like an invasion, sinking deep inside her, owning her so completely—there wasn’t one inch of her that wasn’t Regina’s.

“You don’t have to be anything else,” Regina said, so firmly it didn’t sound like the comfort it was. “Not Mary-Margaret’s daughter, not the Sheriff, not even Henry’s mother. That’s not important now. Don’t worry about it. You’re not allowed to worry about it.”

“Yes!” Emma gasped. She couldn’t get enough air. Regina’s finger was inside her; there wasn’t room for something as big as that and air. “Yes, your Majesty…”

Regina grinned at the knowledge that Emma hadn’t needed a reminder to fall into the old training.

“You’re going to feel these beads inside you—“ And Emma felt Regina’s finger go, a curious longing for it swelling inside her, not dispelled even by the bead pushing against her anus, roughly the same size, but cool and metallic—Regina’s, but not Regina. “You’re going to feel me inside you, and know you’re my good girl.”

“Yes, your Majesty!”

The polished metal bead pushed deeper—it still felt so big to her, still seemed impossible that it would fit, her sphincter quivering against the pressure, the overwhelming pressure, God, how could she be doing this, it was for Regina, she was doing it for Regina—

It went inside, it followed the finger, her anus closed over it, swollen, throbbing, fuck, how could she take another, how was there room?

The next bead was a little larger. God help her.

“You are not the Dark One. You’re not your mistakes, not your sins, not even what you’ve had to do. You’re mine.” Regina’s words were fiercely possessive now, alive with feeling, not a game, not hardly a game. “You’re my good girl,” Regina insisted, pushing until the diameter of the bead was in and out, her sphincter stretched widest, Emma so taut and filled and full that she almost didn’t trust Regina, didn’t believe Regina’s knowledge that she could take this. But Regina gave and Emma obediently took, her good girl.

“Do you like it?” Regina asked solicitously, because she knew what the answer was.

“Yes, your Majesty!” Tears were orbiting Emma’s eyes, pleasure burning in her breasts and sex, her belly, all of her on fire. She wanted to rub her thighs together, she wanted to touch herself, she wanted this to end and she wanted it to never stop. She trusted Regina to split the difference.

“Good girl,” Regina said as another bead went in—only a couple of centimeters, but enormous, huge, bigger than anything she’d ever masturbated with, any man’s penis, any woman’s fist. Emma took it inside herself like a secret, like Regina’s love for her.

“Oh, Jesus, Regina… oh God…” Emma felt herself come, with the strangest sensation that she’d only done it because Regina had wanted her to. She was Regina’s to command, to conquer, and for just those few hours together, for those fleeting moments she felt the beads inside her and was transported back here, that was all she had to be.

***

Six Weeks Later…

“Nice desk,” Emma said. “Bend over it.”

Regina gaped, not knowing how Emma—the Dark One—had gotten into her office, not through the wards she’d put up.

“I know it turns you on,” Emma said, closing the door behind Regina with a gesture. “Your favorite flavor—“ she ran a hand over her body. “Suddenly with a little spice. What better to relieve some of that tension you must be feeling?”

Regina didn’t dare admit she was right. “What are you talking about?”

“Your punishment. The others, they can all burn and drown and… whatever. But you? You get to keep me company. You’ve always been a bitch, Regina. It’s just that now you’ll be my bitch.”

Regina’s breath came hard and fast. She’d almost think it was a spell doing this to her, except that it was Emma. She knew what Emma did to her, even this Emma. She was an addict that needed her fix, and she’d take it no matter what it was cut with.

“I think my ‘company’ is worth more than that,” Regina challenged. “Especially now that you look more like a Tim Burton character.”

Emma scowled. “Well—you did seem to want this.” And she held up the Dagger.

Regina could’ve gasped. Her body for the Dagger… that was no choice, no choice at all. “You’ll give it to me?”

Emma nodded with a dark smile. “Certainly. When you bend over… and hold yourself open for me…” Emma flipped the Dagger over, showing Regina the hilt. Long and hard and smooth as picked-over bone. “I’ll give it to you hard.”

Regina stared for a moment, at the woman she loved, at her damnation, at the only way they could be together.

Then she turned and faced the desk.