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There was nothing in here. It was a dark, foul smelling cell with nothing that could be considered arousing. Still, Rumpelstiltskin was stiffening in his trousers.
He’d been in this cell for far too long. The Dark One was too close. The magic was eating way at his mind. At least before he’d been imprisoned, there was room for it to spread out. But he was trapped with it. Whatever magic kept him here, trapped his own around him. He breathed the magic like some kind of drug. He could feel it in the air, a mist of invisible power hanging on him. Maybe it was the magic itself that elicited such a reaction from his body.
As Rumpelstiltskin held onto the rock ceiling, he could feel the blood flowing, not to his head, but to his cock. It had been years since he’d gotten an actual erection. Years since Belle had gone and he’d had an actual reason to have an erection.
There had been long nights he spent in the Dark Castle with Belle there. Touching himself to the image of her face. He’d been locked away in his tower, yelling as he pulled himself.
Poor Belle. She must have thought him insane. The Dark One was vocal when he pleased himself, but even Rumpelstiltskin could hear the cries did not hold the sounds of pleasure. They sounded angry and maniacal, even sometimes sounded as if he we were in pain.
Rumpelstiltskin groaned, rubbing at the small stalactite between his legs. Thinking of Belle had not been good for his situation. He was throbbing. Tight leather pressed against his swollen cock, pinching just hard enough.
Belle could not be in his thoughts. It was disgusting to think of his deceased love in such a manner. But the Dark One refused to push those thoughts away. Who was he supposed to think of? What was he supposed to do if not think of Belle? Fuck this rock? Or call a guard to jerk him off?
Laughter broke through him at the thought. These guards were terrified of him. What would they do if he were to grab them and force their hand down his pants? Scream and cry, no doubt.
Giggling, he released the stone ceiling and landed hard on his back. It knocked the breath from him, but sounds of his laughter echoed around him. His trousers were too tight, too constraining now. Rumpelstiltskin wiggled his hips against the floor, inching them slowly down around his hips.
He gave another happy outburst as his cock was squashed by the tight waistline. It shouldn’t have felt so pleasant, but he sat for just a moment—his pants around his thighs, the blood pulsing even harder to pass against the leather barrier as if it were some kind of dam.
The leather was sticky when he eventually tried to peel the rest of it away. His sweat and drips of escaped cum clung to the inside of the trousers making a shiny, wet mess. He would have to hang them out to dry. Like a little laundry maid. If only he had a nice cotton dress. Then he would fit the image perfectly.
He was laughing again. Normally, he didn’t take to dressing like a woman, but if he ever got out of here, he might have to try it. Maybe that was why women wore those loose dresses. Being aroused in them would be less messy. Just a bit of wetness in their cotton drawers and layers to keep it from leaking through.
He’d seen Belle’s dresses. They certainly didn’t have stains.
The air in the cell was damp and warm and he barely noticed when his cock was exposed. But there it stood. Dark and thick and gnarled. Like everything else about him. Belle would have been disgusted by the sight of it. Whether or not she’d actually seen a man’s body, she wouldn’t have ever wanted to see this. It colored darker at the tip, almost looking black beneath the already grey skin.
Was it his imagination or could he actually see his own heartbeat. He squinted at it, watching and exclaimed in delight when he saw it sway a bit with each throb he felt. His body was so worked up and he didn’t even have a reason for it. It was a new discovery in such a place as this. There wasn’t much to entertain him as he waited.
This was a pleasant little game.
He watched, hypnotized with it. He could hear himself giggle every few minutes or see his hand reach out to push his cock. It would fall for a second, but be back upright instantly as if there were some kind of spring inside it and this brought him joy to no end.
Soon, he stopped himself. He would explore this further, but now the gentle touches had engorged him further and he was in need of a firm hand.
Wiggling his fingers a bit, he reached down. His eyes rolled back as he wrapped his fingers around it, a strange sound escaping him. There it was, the thumping that had so enraptured him. It was beneath his palm, even more powerful when he could actually feel it.
Rumpelstiltskin drummed his fingers along the shaft, sending a tickling shudder up his spine.
It wasn’t hard to imagine himself back at his castle. The cold rock beneath him felt just as Belle’s old cell floor. He’d spent many nights there after she’d gone. Just lying face down on the stone, staring at the bed where he’d last seen her. It easily could have been one of those nights.
He’d put her in the same cell her first night. Same cell when they’d fought and she’d slapped him. For such a smart little thing, she never actually bothered to check the door. He hadn’t been angry with her for slapping him. As he recalled, he’d needed it. His pride had been wounded. Such a small girl, slapping the Dark One? He’d never heard of such a thing. So he’d puffed her down into the cell and sulked up to his tower.
Belle hadn’t ever feared him. Even if she were to see him now, with his mind half gone, she would pat his cheek and watch his fingers flex around his cock.
He knew her body. Walking in on her at the precise moment she’d been stark naked in her room. What had she been doing in there? Rumpelstiltskin had never wondered, always too embarrassed about the incident to think why she would have been naked.
Had he found her in a moment like this? Like the one he was in now? Touching herself?
His groan came out as a high pitched howl and he tightened his fingers. She very well could have only been changing, but he liked this better. He pumped his fist. The lovely image of Belle’s naked breasts. The Dark One regretted not ever being able to squeeze them. He could only now squeeze his cock and hope that someday, if he ever died. He would get the chance.
He was nearly there. Squeezing any flesh he could, one hand on his cock, the other fingering his testicles. His hips wiggled around, moving to the rhythm of his hands. What could cause his body to move with such reflex? That could be investigated as well.
With one final yank, he drove his heels into the rock and shrieked. The warm sticky fluid gushed from him, sending waves through his abdomen and he couldn’t control the laughter he released. Even as it subsided, he was rolling with giggles as he held his shrinking cock.