So what does Snow White, Cinderella, Goldilocks, Princess Jasmine, and Little Red Riding Hood all have in common? Well let me tell you, it isn't just because Walt Disney took a perverse interest in them. Just in time for Halloween, cold evenings, warm fires, and a glass of red wine comes Hot Ink's "Fetish Fairy Tales," a delightful collection of mythology re-imagined by some of Hot Ink's best and brightest stars.
Michael Alexander along with Nicolette Grey, Louisa Bacio, Chelle, Robert M. West, Carmilla Voiez, Shenoa Carroll-Bradd, and Amanda R. Browning come together in this delightful Halloween extravaganza of erotic fairy tales that definitely lean a little to the dark side.
Join us on facebook at our exciting kick-off event today as Fetish Fairy Tales is released to the public. You never know what might be waiting for you!
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Sample from Michael Alexander's "Red"
Ah my friend, what would you have of me this night? Perhaps a tale of love would suit you, with a cheerful ending to stir the soul? Or are you in the mood for a tragedy of broken hearts and unrequited passion? Or is it our legend, the myth of the Ulv, the creature that roams these parts, howling in the twilight, that you seek? I know not well if you have heard the whispered rumors, for they are dark and monstrous, but the story I can tell you is hard; spoken best in daylight, instead of here, in the shadows, and left for braver hearts. Nay? You must know how it happened? Very well then. Brace yourself, steel your heart. Take another sip of your wine and fortify your spirit. Because when I have finished my tale, you will know the truth that begets the myth. A myth that is only a child’s shadow of the true evil worked that night.I must start at the beginning, as most stories do, and tell you not of the Ulv, but of a girl. She was a beautiful lass, with skin like fresh snow and eyes as green as a pair of svaltarf’s emeralds. Her lips were full and soft, luscious and wanting, and the slope of her breast, full and curved as it dipped into her bodice. Her appearance made men from around the countryside weak-kneed and breathless. But none of these descriptions were what marked the girl as truly intoxicating. No, it was her hair, a scarlet mass of curls that cascaded down her brow like the waters of the Manafossen, caught in the last rays of a setting, scarlet sun. Crimson and ruby and rose, every spectrum of vermillion curled around her delicate face. Her name was IÃ°unnr, but almost from the moment she began coming to town, we simply called her “Red.”She lived yonder, an hour’s journey from town, with her family, a simple woodcutter and his wife. They were happy, if a bit poor, and the girl spent her days helping her mother in the cottage, and gathering wild berries, herbs, and nuts from the forest to sell in the market. Even from a tender age everyone knew she’d grow into a beauty, and eventually she’d ride in on her little donkey, her diminutive frame sitting sideways on the burro’s back, while a gaggle of the town’s boys would make damn fools of themselves, helping her down, and carrying her baskets.There was one boy who was different though. He was a lad named Petyr, husky and strong, the son of a vedhogger, and he worked beside his father felling trees and hauling them to the mill for cutting. His arms bulged with strength and it was a sight to see him swinging that axe of his, or lifting logs around like cords of firewood. Even my own wife, who loves me dearly, made comment about how comely young Petyr was, and how any woman would be grateful to have such an attractive young man interested in them. Admittedly, she might have been urging me to lose a few pounds with her comment, but I digress.Perhaps it was inevitable that two such as Red and Petyr would be attracted to each other. He did not fawn over her as so many of the others did, but instead admired her from afar. I think he was shy. But she was possessed with a heart of spirit and it was she who approached him, winning his attention with promising smiles and fluttering lashes. While half the lads in town fumed, those of us with eyes saw the melting hearts and throbbing pulses, and knew that the two were destined for each other. They would meet occasionally in the night, stolen moments away from her parents, who were determined that Red marry a rich man, for the woodcutter knew his daughter’s beauty could give her a life of ease.But her heart was set on poor Petyr and they would meet in star-filled clearings and moonlit, hay-filled barns, where she would untie the homespun, hooded cloak she wore and pull down her bodice, exposing firm breasts capped with pink tips. Petyr would wrap his strapping arms around her, his mouth finding her lips, passion practically exploding from him as his hands found her bosom. Yet, he was tender with her, as if she might break. Then he would push her skirt and blouse downward, letting the cloth fall around her delicate ankles and sandaled feet. Slowly he would sink to his knees, his lips suckling her nipples as his hands found her pert bottom. A trimmed triangle of red capped her slit and he would pull her downward, laying her gently back in the hay, spreading her open while his tongue delved into her secrets. I can only imagine the taste of her upon my tongue.