Fernie Brae

She was sitting in the middle of a stone circle, when I first
saw her. She sat cross-legged on the centre stone,
watching me calmly. She was naked; but that was the least
surprising thing about her. Though small and slim, she had
a luscious figure, flared hips and conical breasts with
sprawling aureoles. And her delicate complexion was of
pale purple.
Her face was weirdly beautiful, long and thin with a
snub-nose and full crimson lips, and her slanted eyes were
golden. Pointed ears poked through waist-length hair that
was a riot of red and blues, yellows and greens, and
colours I couldn’t quite name. And from her shoulders
sprouted huge filigree wings.
I’d fallen asl**p in the shadow of the standing stones,
tired from a morning walking through the hills. I’d seen
the tell-tale symbol on the map and planned my route to
take it in. There are standing stones the length and breadth
of Britain and beyond, many of them arranged in circles.
They’re magic places every one, with their mystical
alignment to the heavens and their connection to the bones
of the earth.

It would be worth the couple of extra miles, I’d
thought, but had seriously begun to doubt it, as I’d slogged
up the long path. No route is ever straight in the hills, but
this one had twisted and wound more than most. Now, on
the last stretch, the little track that might have been made
by walkers, or might have been made by sheep, had
wrapped itself round and round the hillside, spiralling in
like a maze.
Even though in no real state to appreciate the sight, the
circle had impressed me. A dozen worn pillars, erect and
proud in an irregular ring, leaning like rotten teeth with a
warm breeze playing through the gaps. Lichen grew on
them, and one leant so far it seemed a miracle it hadn’t
Inside the ring, the grass looked lusher than on the
hilltop around. In the centre, a large flat stone was barely
discernible above the waving green blades all around.
Once I was within, all sound had seemed shut out, even
the wind.
Slipping off my pack, I’d fished out my water-bottle
and taken a long slug; then I’d lain down on my back in
the grass, vaguely watching the sun flirting with wispy
clouds. I’d only intended to close my eyes for a few
minutes, but opened them to find the sun halfway down
the sky and to the knowledge that I wasn’t alone. I sat up
‘Who…’ I managed before my voice ran out. The
single word sounded loud in my ears, telling me that I
wasn’t dreaming.
She smiled. At least, it seemed like a smile, though her
features were so strange that it was hard to be sure.
‘Usually,’ she said, ‘I’m called Your Majesty.’ She had a
singing, lilting voice that sounded in harmony, partly from
her mouth and partly from far away.

‘Your…um…’ It was reasonable enough to be tonguetied
in such a situation, but I felt acutely embarrassed to be
mumbling in front of this exotic beauty. ‘What’s going
on?’ I managed at last.
‘You’ve slept inside my Ring,’ she said, the weird
smile still playing with her lips and eyes. ‘That makes you
‘Your Ring?’ Glancing around, I realized that the
standing stones no longer looked the same. To part of my
sight, they were still stones, worn and lichen-covered; but
they were also men, two or three times my own height and
covered in shaggy hair. Their eyes were all fixed on the
woman who spoke to me, and each had an erection as long
as my forearm.
‘My giant-guards,’ she said. ‘They watch over my
sacred place, until I fuck each one of them. Then they’ll be
It was all so unreal that the thing which struck me most
was that there was no crudity about the way her lilting
voice said fuck. Instead, it seemed to come from a
wonderful place, where music and sex were one.
‘Are you a goddess?’ I found myself asking. The
question seemed absurd, but less absurd than what I was
seeing with my own eyes.
But she laughed aloud, like bells in the wind. ‘Not a
goddess,’ she said. ‘Not one of those stuck-up,
sanctimonious bitches.’ Cocking her head on one side, she
examined me. ‘Don’t you know me?’ she challenged. ‘I
don’t believe mortals have entirely forgotten me. I’m the
Faery Queen.’
I didn’t doubt her, in spite of the voice inside trying to
tell me how stupid this was. I was speaking to a naked
purple woman with wings, in the middle of standing

stones that were also giants. In what way was it reasonable
to doubt who she was?
I was still sitting half up, leaning on my elbows. Before
I could move further, I felt a slithering at my ankles. I
glanced down, almost expecting to see snakes crawling all
over me, but the grass was visibly growing around my
feet, twining quickly and expertly to tie me down. In
panic, I tried to pull my feet back; but, for all the apparent
fragility of the grass, I was trapped by solid bonds.
Trying to sit up, I realized that there was more
slithering where my arms rested, and they too were held
tightly. Quickly and expertly, the grass wound up and
around me, pulling me back to lie supine, winding itself
around chest and waist and thighs. Before I’d managed to
find words to protest, I was bound firmly to the ground.
‘What’s happening?’ I finally managed.
Her strange face took on a surprised expression. ‘What
do you think?’ she asked sweetly. ‘There’s only one use
for mortals.’
Desperately racking my brains, I tried to remember
what I knew of faery lore. I was vaguely familiar with the
usual fairy-stories, of course, and I had half-memories of
old ballads that seemed to deal with the subject a little
more seriously. But, of course, I’d never regarded any of
this as more than fanciful stories from long ago. How
much of it was true? I wondered. Could I use the old tales
as a guide?
‘Are you going to kill me?’ I asked her, struggling to
keep a façade of calm that belied my actual feelings.
Her expression grew more unmistakably puzzled, and
her head moved from side to side, almost like an a****l
searching for a scent. ‘What’s kill?’ she asked. ‘I think I
may have heard of it once. But it’s been so long.’

A little reassured, even though the weirdness was
somehow increased, I said, ‘It’s to…make someone be
There was a long pause, this time. ‘Oh, yes,’ she
murmured at last, the distant part of her voice sounding
like a faint breeze, ‘I remember death. I didn’t like it, so I
forgot about it.’ The smile returned. ‘Oh no,’ she added,
‘it’s not death I want from you.’
I saw her make a slight movement with her hands, and
realized instantly that my clothes had vanished. I still lay
helpless in the bonds of the grass, but now I was naked.
‘Ah,’ she sighed, examining my body, ‘mortal men are
best. Women can be fun, but they haven’t one of these.’
And, kneeling forwards, she reached out one small, purple
hand and brushed my flaccid penis.
Her touch was like nothing I’d ever felt before. The
skin of her hand seemed to be both there and not there. It
felt like cool velvet, with only the slightest of chafing to
mark its passing; but it seemed to pass right through the
organ as well, feeling it from the inside. It was a more
intimate touch than any I’d ever felt, and I could feel the
bl**d pulsing faster through my veins. She was very close
to me, her purple skin sending a tingle through the air
between us. I could see a sheen all over her, like and
unlike sweat. It glittered golden in the sunlight, and
smelled like rhododendrons after rain.
My mind was divided, like her voice and the stones.
Part of it was watching and questioning, feeling scared. In
spite of her assurance that she didn’t want to kill me, I was
being held captive for her pleasure, and was being whirled
into sex. There was a panicky feeling, which I didn’t
entirely understand. I enjoyed sex; and the Faery Queen,
strange as she might be, was certainly desirable. But I was
used to feeling at least partly in control; and now the

helplessness of my position felt like vertigo, sending me
spinning and tumbling into chaos.
At the same time, though, my consciousness was
crackling between her body and mine, and that cloyingly
sweet smell seemed to have got into my bl**d. I could feel
myself careering through my veins, waking the sl**ping
cells of a form that was more like light than flesh.
‘This will be fun,’ said the Faery Queen softly, and she
began to leave tickling kisses on my body, something like
a warm breeze on naked skin and something like the
suction of two sweaty bodies pressed together. Her cool,
barely-tangible lips explored every part of me, caressing
with warm, musky breath that soaked into the pores of my
skin. Her mouth lingered deliciously on my inner thighs
and my nipples and the side of my neck and my own
A jag of light flashed across my eyes. The watching
mind told me that, in a sky with few clouds, it couldn’t be
lightning; but then the rolling roar of thunder rose and fell,
coming from every part of the sky at once. The lightningfork
had burnt itself into my sight, and I began to see two
things at once, just as the stones were stones and giants,
just as my captor’s voice came from her lips and from far
away. I could see the stone-circle, the Faery Queen
looming over me with her lips to mine and her hand
caressing my now responding penis; and I could see a
crossroads, with a narrow, unmade track climbing a steep
hill to one side, a broad main road rolling gently downhill
to the other, and a seductively winding country lane
straight ahead, hung over with apple-blossom and lined by
dog-roses, forget-me-nots and hawthorn.
‘What’s happening?’ I asked, when her mouth moved a
little away from mine.

The Faery Queen’s face took on that expression which
might have been a smile. ‘I’m going to take you,’ she said
softly, ‘somewhere wonderful.’ Sliding sinuously down
my body, leaving trails of electricity buzzing beneath my
skin, she took my half-erect member between thumb and
forefinger and gently kissed its tip.
A sensation shot through my penis and deep into my
belly, something like lightning and something like solid
ice. I could feel her pulling the foreskin back over the
head, a sweet little tongue-tip flickering at the slit. But I
couldn’t concentrate, because I was standing at the
crossroads too. The Faery Queen stood beside me, and I
saw now that she was small, her head barely reaching my
shoulder. But she was imperious, and the voice that came
from far-off was telling me, ‘This way, forget the other
roads. This is the way we must go.’
I heard her give a slight sigh before, pulling back her
face a moment, she opened her crimson mouth wide and
engulfed my erection in a single plunge. Leaving it there a
moment, she drew her lips back, sliding them along
topside and sensitive underside, until they’d reached the
exposed knob, before swooping all the way back.
A shuddering passed all the way through my body, and
I strained against my bonds, powerless to do anything else.
It was like being tickled; but from within, deep inside my
veins and my organs, deeper even than that. As though
that mouth, damp and insistent, were kissing the inside of
my soul. At the fullest plunge, her tongue tickled my balls
and her teeth delicately combed through the tangled curls
of my pubic hair. Then she would pull slowly back, her
tongue-tip playing all the way up my undershaft, her lips
following with a light, silky rasp, until she was teasing the
head again.

After a few strokes, without losing rhythm, she moved
around to straddle my face. Remembering how short she
was, I doubted that she’d be able to continue her
ministrations from that position; but her wet, open vagina
planted its sweet kiss on my lips while her own mouth was
at fullest plunge.
I’d always enjoyed the taste and smell of a woman’s
genitals, the rich, strong taste of the juices. But the Faery
Queen was like no other woman. The aroma was like that
from her pores, the lushness of the bloom that seduces the
bee, but so wanton that my head spun with the scent. And
she tasted sweet, like honey not sugar, with the delicate
perfume of wildflowers. My tongue strained, without
conscious effort, to drink in all it could of that heady
Deprived of sight and intoxicated by smell and taste, I
found I was seeing the crossroads more clearly. ‘Come
with me,’ she told me, and I’d no will to resist. Glancing
to left and right, I felt no temptation to take the other
roads. I briefly turned my head and saw that the road
behind led, a very short distance away, to the stone circle
where I lay naked, the Faery Queen astraddle my face and
sucking on me.
‘We’ll catch up with ourselves,’ she said, taking my
hand in hers.
From somewhere in the air around me, a voice that
might have been mine was singing a verse of an ancient
ballad I remembered hearing once:
And see ye not yon bonny road
That winds around the fernie brae?
That is the Road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.

I looked at the exquisite creature beside me, so delicate
and so commanding, and my heart missed a beat at the
mere thought of not being with her. There was a hollow
need in my guts, and a pounding in my chest, and a need
in my mind; and I set off with her along the winding
country lane.
As I walked, my tongue parted the little hood at the top
of the Faery Queen’s slit and freed the tiny knob of her
clitoris. The moment I touched it, I felt her back arch and
her mouth clamp tightly over my shaft for an instant,
before she resumed her rhythm, and guessed that she had
felt the icy lightning that she sent through my body.
I played for a while with the wonderful little thing,
feeling it grow swollen and proud at the insistence of my
tongue-tip, before I went exploring between her tightlypursed
lips, driven by a hunger to be inside her. I found
the way in, by the sweet juices seeping from it, but it was
hardly there.
I was scared to probe, thinking I’d hurt her; but she
turned to me as we wandered hand-in-hand around the
windings of the country lane, pausing as two rabbits
scampered across in front of us. ‘Don’t hold back,’ she
murmured, and her voice caressed me from within. ‘On a
road like this, nothing you do can harm me.’
So I pushed my tongue into the tiny hole, feeling it
open like tight elastic, squeezing back hard to prevent me
from leaving, if I’d been mad enough to wish to. ‘That
feels good,’ she giggled, her beautiful face sparkling into
a smile. ‘Lets run for a while.’
Still hand-in-hand, we sprang into a fast run along the
lane. Her filigree wings spread to catch the warm wind
that blew her rainbow hair out behind; and the same wind
played deliciously in my own hair and on my naked skin.
The ground beneath my bare feet was springy grass now,

not warm tarmac, and I could feel the grass-roots growing
slowly through my soles and up through my bl**d-stream
to my heart. Exulting in speed and wind and life, I felt
myself spurting spasm after spasm of life into the Faery
Queen’s open mouth.
‘Oh no,’ she said, lifting her head up from my soaked
penis, still pointing stiffly up but on the point of collapse.
‘I haven’t finished with this yet.’ She passed her hand
lightly over it, and its erection became instantly solid
again, matching my undiminished desire.
‘This road winds a lot,’ I commented, stopping for
breath. I was feeling surprisingly good, after running so
far, but felt I needed a rest. ‘I think it’s turned right round
on itself.’
The Faery Queen regarded me with languid
amusement, stretching her wings luxuriously. ‘Several
times over,’ she commented.
‘So…’ I glanced around, but nothing looked familiar.
‘Why haven’t we come back to where we started?’
‘Because a circle doesn’t do that,’ she explained
patiently, reaching out to caress my hair. ‘By the time a
circle can come back on itself, time has passed. So the new
circle begins from a different point.’
I considered, before deciding that this seemed
reasonable. ‘So,’ I said, ‘we keep going round and round,
and always come to somewhere different?’
‘Isn’t that how you reach anywhere worth reaching?’
I didn’t have a chance to reply, because she lifted her
beautiful buttocks off my eyes and her cute crotch off my
mouth and turned around in a single, fluid movement. Her
golden slanted eyes gazed down at me.
I longed to sit up, take her in my arms and lay her
down. I longed to lie over her and take her roughly,
feeling her delicate body helpless as I thrust into it. But the

grass bonds still held me tightly, and it was as much as I
could do to raise my head.
With a sigh, the Faery Queen straddled my crotch,
holding her wet, pink slit just over the object of its desire.
‘I want this,’ she said softly, ‘inside me.’
I panicked for a moment, as she lowered herself slowly
onto me, remembering how tiny the hole was and halfexpecting
to tear her apart. But it opened to accommodate
the shaft, springing back to grasp it so tightly that I
gasped, as the insistence of my surging bl**d fought with
the velvet grip around it.
I stopped walking abruptly. ‘I can hear someone
singing,’ I said.
‘Of course. It’s not far now.’
Whirling me by the hand she’d kept in mine, she
grabbed my other hand and began a wild, capering dance,
round and round. Her brilliant hair floated around her in
ways that seemed to have little to do with her motion. Her
pointy breasts were firmly aimed at me, their nipples,
crimson against purple skin, erect and impossibly long.
We whirled faster; and she was screaming, as she rose and
fell on me, her flow-scent sweat dripping from her face
and her breasts and her belly and her thighs, to merge
shamelessly with the musky sweat of my passion. We were
whirling so fast that I could no longer see anything but
her, as the land spun around us, and the wind was roaring
in my head and on my skin, and my body was
indistinguishable from hers or from the land we danced
in; and she reared up, her body liquid and shaking, her
wings spread convulsively, as she sucked me right into
herself and I poured spurt after spurt deep into her body.
I looked slowly around, as my head stopped its ecstatic
spinning. ‘How did I get here?’ I asked dreamily.
The Faery Queen had her arms around me, her head
nuzzling against my chest, wings half folded about us both.
It didn’t just seem natural to be like that, it would have
seemed unnatural to be any other way. She didn’t look, but
I guessed that she knew what was there anyway.
‘Don’t you remember?’ She gave a low throaty giggle.
‘We came together.’
I couldn’t disagree with that. The countryside around
me glowed along every edge, gold and silver and a
rainbow of colours. All the familiar objects, trees and
grass, bushes and flowers, seemed both themselves and
something totally other at the same time.
And there were people everywhere. Some were like the
creature in my arms, winged and delicately coloured;
others seemed to be beings out of myth, satyrs and
nymphs, dwarves and giants. All were sexually engaged,
in couple, threes or more, and in all combinations of male
and female; though not all seemed restricted to the sexes I
‘Is this fairyland?’ I asked at last.
‘If that’s what you want to call it,’ she said. I wasn’t
sure whether her voice sounded annoyed or amused. ‘It’s
my realm. You’re welcome to make use of it.’
I looked around again, searching for the winding lane,
but there was no sign of a road anywhere in this strange
landscape. ‘It would be nice for a while,’ I said cautiously.
‘But I’ve got a life, back at home.’
She gave a tinkling laugh that was suddenly no longer
sweet. ‘Not much of one, now. You’ve been gone seven
years already.’
‘What?’ It wasn’t the most eloquent reply, but it was all
I could manage. ‘How come?’
‘Precisely,’ she said. ‘A faery fuck takes seven years:
everyone knows that.’

I felt panic rising from my guts towards my throat and
f***ed it down again. ‘And…’ I stuttered. ‘And…how do I
get back? The road’s gone. Can you show me back?’
She threw back her head and laughed heartily this time.
‘No, no, no,’ she sang, more than spoke. ‘My fuck shows
the way here. There are others who show the way back.’
‘Who?’ I asked, glancing around. Though I wasn’t
happy about losing seven years, if the way back was as
good as the way here, it might almost be worth it.
But the Faery Queen laughed again. ‘I haven’t the
slightest idea,’ she told me. ‘You’ll just have to try them
all. But remember: seven years each time.’
My face must have looked horrified, because she
giggled again and kissed me, deeply and sweetly, but not
with passion. ‘Come now,’ she said, her voice a little more
gentle, ‘it’s not so bad to be here, is it? You’ve pleased
me, and my realm is yours to enjoy.’
At a sighing, tinkling call from her, two girls ran up,
hand-in-hand. One was covered in silver fur, a long tail
swishing behind, the other had hair of foliage and flowers
for breasts. ‘This is a visitor to our land,’ she said. ‘Make
sure he enjoys himself.’
As they took my hands and pulled me after them, I
shrugged inwardly. I still intended to get home, one day.
But I’d have fun doing it.