Chapter 3 Self-Exploration is Liberating.

The next morning, after a night of tossing and turning with that unresolved ache still buzzing under my skin, I can't resist the pull of the stack anymore. I grab Frost and Flame—the one that caught my eye with its icy heroine and fiery suitor, promising a melt I so desperately need. It's even more detailed than Kissed by Starlight or The Gentleman and the Ghost. This one delves into much greater depth, and the language is so vulgar and unusual that I find myself having to read past certain parts to understand what is happening, then go back to comprehend the words. Now I have a whole new vocabulary of words to use that I never knew existed. After the first few chapters, our damsel is being fucked in a coat closet by her King, who also happens to be her stepbrother. He has her leg perched over his shoulder as he thrusts into her hard against the wall. One hand covering her mouth to stop the sounds coming out, the other on her ass for support. The author painted the perfect picture of his cock in my mind, and I wonder so badly now how this scene would feel. I wonder so badly that I flick backwards in the book to the first chapter, where our king is finger fucking our damsel in his car. I read and re-read and memorise every single movement the author describes, and then I put down the book and close my eyes.

I let my imagination take me away from this tower and put me in that car. My own fingers slide up my dress, into my panties, and I explore myself. I imagine that this is the King's hand, that he’s the one inside of me, that he’s kissing my neck, squeezing my breasts, pumping harder and faster. I make the movements with my hand that the author described. There’s a quick, building feeling low in my belly, shooting through my pussy that doesn't fade. I chase that feeling, lost in my imagination, as I imagine the King jerking his cock in one hand and thrusting inside of me with the other. The scene unravels so beautifully, so lust and hunger-filled, a beast of a man taking what he wants so desperately, and when he cums in my mind, I finally, fucking finally, cum in real life. My first, real orgasm quite literally explodes from me, and my eyes shoot open to see a blizzard of snow, wind, and ice all at once. It thrashes against the walls and my books, my poor fucking books. Then, through the storm, I watch as the spell holding me captive shatters. Like iridescent shards of glass, it breaks and falls, fading into nothing. My breath is heavy; I can see it with each exhale in front of me, coming out in plumes of frost. I don’t even think. I don't even get to enjoy my high fully. I just move. I jump to my feet, which are seriously a little shaky now, and run over to the door that has been locked all these years. I turn the handle and yank it open. Warm air hits my face for just a second before the snow starts to appear down the stairs.  I’m…free. Or at least I could be. I quickly move back to my bed, grabbing the one book that made me orgasm so hard that it has released me from this tower, and then I run.

The frost beneath my feet spreads with every step I take, spiderwebbing across the stone steps in glittering veins. My pulse is a drum in my ears, my excitement spilling out of me faster than I can contain it. The air grows colder until I can see my own breath swirling around me like ribbons of smoke, and then predictably, I lose my footing. My feet slip, and I let out a startled yelp as I go sliding down the spiral staircase, landing squarely on my backside. I bump down three steps, four, maybe five, who’s counting, before finally skidding to a stop with my skirt hiked halfway to my knees and my dignity somewhere back at the top. Thank the stars I did stop, though, because there, perched on a little mound of snow, is Gilfred. He stares at me with one beady eye and the most judgmental tilt of his head I’ve ever seen on a gecko.

“All right, all right,” I mutter, brushing snow from my hair. “I know. Graceful as ever.”

He blinks slowly, unimpressed.

“Hey! Buddy!” I say, grinning despite myself. “I’m free and getting the hell out of here! Are you coming?!”

Gilfred pauses, then hops neatly into my outstretched palm, curling his little toes against my skin.

“Of course you are,” I whisper, smiling. “Smartest one here.”

With my scandalous, freedom-inducing book clutched in one hand and my gecko companion in the other, I make it down the final few steps. The second door stands before me, tall and heavy, its frame dusted with frost. I push it open, and for the first time in twelve years, I step outside. I expect sunlight and warmth. Maybe the kiss of the breeze on my cheeks. Instead, the world greets me with winter. Frost spreads instantly from where I stand, spilling across the grass and creeping up the trunks of nearby trees. Snow flurries swirl around me, thick and fast, frosting rooftops and windows in seconds. The cobblestone path ices over with a sound like cracking glass. I stare in horror as it races outward, faster than I can blink, curling around the edges of the nearest cottages and licking up lampposts.

The sounds of people screaming draw my attention. Doors slam. People run. Mothers drag their children inside. Someone yells, “She’s loose!”

“Rude,” I mutter under my breath. “It’s not like I meant to turn the place into an ice rink.”

Gilfred snuggles closer to my wrist, his body cold but steady.

“Yeah, yeah,” I sigh. “I know. Time to go.”

I glance once more at the town that had always been just beyond my window. My first taste of freedom is already coated in frost, and then I turn away. The wind bites at my cheeks as I run. The frost follows my every step, spreading wider with every breath. Behind me, the shouts grow faint. Ahead, the world stretches, all white, wild and waiting. I don’t know where I’m going. I only know I can’t stop now.