Twisted Tales: The Complete Collection (Nine Adult Fairy Tales Of Extreme And Taboo Punishment) Read online

  The Prince withdraws, moving to stand before me and allow me to clean his cock of the sharp flavor of my ass and the warm seed that slickens it.

  The King is equally pleased, his member leaving my hole wide and empty. “A most pleasing, bride, my son.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Has your mother sampled her yet?”

  “No, Father.”

  The King’s face lights up. My pussy twitches in anticipation. “Summon her, for we all know four bodies are far more conducive to pleasure than three.”

  PUNISHING SLEEPING BEAUTY

  For a long while I do not believe it. In the room that has remained so unchanged before me there is a figure, a prince.

  At first I think it is a trick of light or mind, but the clarity of him cannot be disputed. I do not know how long I have been trapped in this body, forced to watch these walls shift through night and day waiting for my release. I feel nothing, not the castle breeze or the pillow that props my head. I am naught but a sleeping beauty.

  He observes me, walking around the bed. He wears blue and gold, the cloth bound tight to his body in a fashion that is most unusual. He is youthful, handsome.

  My hair is no longer flaxen as it splays before me. The enchantment has turned it a deep and lustrous brown. The Prince seems puzzled by this, drawing up a length and letting it fall back onto my gowned breast.

  The Prince moves to windows and opens the shutters. I am flooded in light.

  He stoops towards me, touching my cheek and running a finger across my lips and the swell of my cheek.

  He straddles me on the bed and I gasp quietly inside. After all these years the material of my gown tears easily in his hands.

  When I’m naked, he examines my breasts, pinching at my nipples until they are a bright and rosy red. His fingers move down into the thatch of hair between my legs, probing.

  There is nothing I can do but watch.

  He tears my sleeves away, lifting me now with gentle arms until I am free of the cloth completely, my hair spilling out over the sides of the narrow bed.

  He seems to delight in my body, weighing my breasts, testing their plumpness and slapping them back and forth while his free hand presses against my pubis.

  I see the bulge growing in his trousers. It terrifies me.

  Finally, he lifts me, placing his lips upon my own.

  Life fills my limbs like a hot fire.

  The enchantment is broken.

  His eyes are dark pools, wells of nothingness.

  I am stunned into silence, my mouth fixed open as breath rushes into my lungs for the first time in a century.

  “I am Prince Alexandria and I have awakened you, Princess,” he tells me. “For a hundred years you and your court have slept, but now you wake by my hand. You are now indebted to me.

  Indebted. I don’t know the meaning of the word.

  There’s commotion outside, a scream and cry.

  I try to cover myself but the Prince holds my arms by my side, pinning them to the bed. “You are mine now, Beauty. You will not cover yourself again, do you hear?”

  My voice feels strange on my dry lips. “Yes.”

  He removes himself from the bed and orders me to stand.

  I do, cheeks growing hot with shame at my exposed sex and breasts. My chest heaves and my heart remains an active hammer in my chest.

  He kisses me again, opening my mouth with his lips and tongue.

  The sensation is not unpleasant. Indeed it sends a strange trail of heat right into the heated juncture between my thighs.

  “So innocent,” he says, stroking my face, “but sadly, not for long, for my cock needs polishing and I can think of no better mouth by which to work it.”

  “I’m sorry, Prince, but I do not understand?”

  “Kneel.”

  He steps close, lifting my hair back behind my shoulders.

  The Prince is young and handsome, but his features are sharp. He seems sure of action and purpose, and this both terrifies and delights me. I am thankful to be released from the curse. The whole court has the Prince to thank. It is thus my duty to do as he wishes.

  I am not versed in the ways of men, only just free of adolescence when the curse was enacted. It is thus a great surprise to me when the Prince lowers his trousers and a great cock comes free.

  I’ve only ever seen my father’s appendage as a child, but this organ is majestic, rising from a nest of gold thick and proud. It stands before me hard as an iron bar. I marvel at its hardness and length. It looks painfully twisted, like a branch grown and buckled. I immediately want to grasp it, feel its texture and breathe in the Prince’s mannish scent.

  His hand brushes my cheek gently. He lifts my hair behind my ear and looks to me with softening eyes. Yet still they show no colour, no feeling. They are as black as ink pots.

  “Take it in your mouth,” he commands. “Use your lips and tongue to pleasure me.”

  For a moment I am completely shocked. I am a princess, after all, but I know I am under his command. To disobey could bring terrible consequences upon myself and my family. Compliance is the only path to take.

  I take the stiff member into my mouth immediately noting its immense size. The Prince seizes my hair and presses more of himself inside until his cock’s nudging the back of my slender throat. He levers my head up and down upon his length, groaning as a salty fluid swims in my mouth. I close my eyes, savouring this new and strange flavour.

  He grunts above me. His need grows. He moves quicker in pace, leaving little room for breath. I am sure he is about to reach some terrible conclusion when he lifts my head away. With one hand on the root of his phallus he slaps me across the cheek with it, tapping it against my lips and smiling. “Well done, Beauty, but there’s a better home for my seed than your belly.”

  Although I am helpless, I realise there is power in the pleasure I can provide. My sex twitches, melting even under this humiliation.

  “I can help you,” the Prince says, a picture of compassion, the darkness fleeing his eyes. He lifts me up and kisses me again, his hand parting my legs as I fight the urge to cover myself.

  With his finger and thumb he explores the damp canyon of my sex, prying the tender lips there open as one would coax a flower into bloom.

  I quiver, a stranger to the sensation that is paralysing me, this new enchantment. His free hand comes against my mouth, pulling at my teeth and jaw.

  I cry, a single tear falling from my cheek unable to work out why I feel so shamed and yet so happy at once, why his long fingers have such an effect on me.

  He finds a small nodule of flesh right at the tip of my sex and starts to work it back and forth. I press my hips forward to meet his touch. My back arches and my face pulls together in a kind of agony.

  I open my eyes to find him amused. A milky fluid thickens around his fingers.

  “Yes,” he enthuses, “that’s it, Beauty. Never resist.”

  My body pulls tight, purse strings drawing in and a hot coil building in the pit of my stomach. My back arches further until it seems like I am going to snap. I breathe out long consumed with pleasure, my sex pulsing and clenching, colours and patterns shifting behind my eyelids as I release.

  He strokes my porcelain cheek, his member stiff again between us. “Very good, Beauty, very good.”

  His hand is soft, his fingers long and delicate in juxtaposition to his harsh features. Yet I am lost in him, bound now to him, happy to indulge his every order and command. He has claimed me, awakened me. Everything is alive once more and he is to thank. Father will be so pleased.

  I do not hear the door open.

  I do not hear another enter.

  Suddenly my world goes dark. I breathe in sharply, cheesecloth pressing into my mouth as the bag is secured around my head. Strong arms pull my wrists together behind my back. I twist my head from side to side but can see nothing. “Prince?” I question.

  His voice comes low and crooning to my ear. “Now, Beauty, it is t
ime for your punishment.”

  I tremble. “But for what, my lord?”

  “For being beautiful, for stirring my loins, for whatever I command it to be. You are mine now and I shall do with you as I please.”

  I’m led out of the room and down the hallway. I count the steps, echoes providing a sense of dimension. I am sure we come into the Great Hall.

  We stop.

  I’m pressed down onto my knees, the cool marble against my skin confirming the location. My arms are stretched out and come forward to a solid mass. There’s pressure under my wrists before a weight closes over them and I am in confinement. The cheesecloth is pulled off and my head is shifted forward, worn timber under the delicate skin of my neck and my hair lifted over the terrible beam as another closes around the back of my neck. The texture…

  No.

  My eyes know it, but the Prince makes it physical with his words. “The pillory, Beauty, a glorious device. Where I am from it is a common sight.”

  Common? But I’m a princess.

  Head and wrists trapped in bondage, I am at the Prince’s complete mercy.

  Ahead, the Great Hall is deserted. At least I can be thankful there is no audience to witness my debasement and humiliation.

  My bare feet scramble for purchase on the marble.

  My great mane of hair tumbles down beside my face, spilling over the floor. The Prince approaches from behind. His boot rises between my legs, the polished leather kissing my cunt. He kicks my legs apart and I blush deeper in shame.

  I scream as he pinches a hanging nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger, groping and handling my breasts roughly. He lets go and they swing forward naturally, brushing against the back of rough surface of the pillory.

  His hand comes against a buttock and I jerk forwards, but it’s of little use. The weight of the pillory is too great. It cannot be shifted.

  He strokes the tight globe of my ass softly. I sob. Tears turn my eyes into glassy pools.

  The initial crack of the paddle on my behind sends a flower of burning pain rising swiftly to the surface of my flesh.

  Where did he procure it?

  I cry out louder as the second spanking comes with greater swiftness and power. A third follows and a fourth as I hammer forward to escape the paddle’s hot bite.

  “It pleases me,” says the Prince, exertion clear in his voice as he brings down the paddle even harder on my poor ass, “to bring pain to such a delicate creature.”

  “Please, my Prince,” I cry, sobbing harder.

  The only reply is another bloom of pain on my backside.

  I can feel my buttocks growing hotter and hotter. The cracks of the paddle reverberate in the Great Hall. My body absorbs each blow, the sound of the paddle striking my flesh somehow worse than the pain itself.

  A blow comes low, smarting my open sex. I scream hard.

  I pant, my chest heaving while tears spill from my face onto the marble.

  No further blows come and I am suddenly, horribly aware of a strange sort of distress between my legs, an aching hollow.

  I stay rigid and afraid.

  “Now, Beauty, you are to be stripped of your innocence.”

  “No! Please, my lord!”

  My cries fall on deaf ears.

  A new voice can be heard. “Please, Prince! Surely the punishment received was enough!”

  I realise with growing dread it’s the voice of my father, the King.

  The Prince laughs. “The game is up. Turn her around.”

  The pillory moves, shifted by hands unseen, turning and lifted until it’s done half a revolution and the rear of the court comes into view.

  It’s full. The entire court is gathered there. I realise they’ve been privy to everything, the sight of my open sex and spanked behind. Now I face them head-on. I don’t know what is worse.

  My cheeks burn the same bright red as my ass. I cry freely, blubbering like a child. The Prince continues to laugh before his words take a dark turn. He points his finger at the King, my father. “You will remain silent during proceedings, old man, for I have broken the enchantment and forever freed your kingdom. You are in my eternal debt but I ask only of your daughter as my prize, fit to do with her as I please until I have no longer use for her. Is that understood?”

  Father nods and all hope is gone.

  “Father!” I plead, but he simply shakes his head and holds onto the hand of my mother. Everyone is gathered there, my ladies and maids, all crying and clutching one another as they are forced to watch this torturous spectacle.

  There is no escape. The Prince’s guards line the walls. They are well-armed, large men who look seasoned for battle. The court guards are nowhere to be seen. My fate is sealed.

  The Prince disrobes in front of me, quietly and calming removing his clothing until he is completely naked.

  He shows no shame, proudly walking with his manhood bobbing and weaving before him, wielding it as though one would a sword.

  From the pile of clothing he gathers up a scabbard, removing a long and thin knife and disappearing behind me.

  “Father!” I scream, just as two guards rush forward. One holds my mouth open while the other applies a balled leather gag, tying it tightly around the back of my head.

  I scream again, by my cries are now muffled and my mouth full. My nostrils flare. I squirm and twist in the pillory, but I know my movements are futile.

  Fresh tears press out from my eyes as a thick pain comes to the nipple of my right breast. It comes again and I realise the Prince is clamping it with something hard. Remarkably, it hardens under the torture, the same process following for the left nipple until the weight of the cruel devices force my breasts to hang agonisingly low and long from my chest. I flush again, trying to shake them loose but only succeeding in releasing more pain.

  The Prince laughs high and loud. “Excellent, excellent, don’t you think, King?”

  My father is pale, crushed by what he’s forced to witness. Thankfully my mother has passed out, a limp corpse on her chair.

  The Prince kicks my legs apart roughly. His hand snakes between them. He roughly gropes my virgin mound, fiddling and pinching my pubic lips until they part against my will.

  I have never known such shame. Parts of myself that have been unconscious wake again as he tugs on my lips and a sole digit rings the little mouth of my sex.

  His hand leaves. I breathe hard, biting down on the warm leather in my mouth, the weight on my nipples painful in the extreme.

  I shiver when his hands grip my shoulders and he runs the very tip of the knife slowly down my spine. “Such beauty,” he laughs, “but so easily taken.”

  The knife tip turns sideways, running over the corrugations of my ribs and up the side of a swollen breast, tapping with metallic ring against the clamp.

  The knife shifts again, running across the smooth surface of my belly through the thicket beyond to rest just inside my split sex.

  I try to remain as still as possible with the sharp blade prying me open.

  The Prince presses the blade a little deeper and the blunt top of it rests against my opening.

  I wait for the moment, the thrust that will gut me, but it never comes. The blade slips away and I am left only with the cold memory of the iron on my exposed flesh.

  Please, let it be over, I pray.

  But the Prince won’t be satisfied so easily.

  His fingers come quickly back to my folds and are soon inside me, stroking in and out against my maidenhead in a curling motion that forces my body to twist and writhe in pleasure.

  I cannot help the way my body reacts. I am once again a motionless observer with no power over my fate.

  My juices run freely over the Prince’s fingers before they are replaced with something of far greater thickness and body.

  With a mixed chill of fear and anticipation I realise it is the Prince’s cock, ready to impale me and strip my innocence.

  A guard holds a knife to my father’s throat
, holding his head up by the hair and forcing him to watch. He mouths ‘I’m sorry’ just as the Prince grasps my hips and thrusts hard inside me.

  I bite down on the gag as his shaft plunges deep into the tight confines of my sex. He stops there, enjoying the sensation before pulling out and driving forward again, my ass cheeks jiggling as he comes against them and my shoulders pressed hard against the back of the pillory.

  It is done.

  The Prince slaps my buttocks as he slides out and in. With every thrust he gains more ground, wincing and complimenting my cunt. “How tight it is!” he bellows, spanking me again. “A beauty indeed!”

  His men laugh as he fills me. His thrusts become stronger and my cunt responds, my desire pooling around his cock as he deflowers me. Soon his member is enveloped completely in the tight glove of my sex, the matted hairs of his pubis compressed against my own as his scrotum swings into the hard nub that released me earlier.

  I close my eyes unable to face the court any longer. All dignity is lost. The Prince treats me no better than an animal as he takes me from behind, hissing and shouting as he nudges into the very back of my cunt.

  I can feel him tightening close to release. His fingers claw into my sides as he explodes with pleasure, his weight falling painfully over my back. He fills my womb quickly, heating it fast and then withdrawing so that the result of his pleasure leaks out onto the marble below.

  Laughing, he comes in front of me and removes the gag. I open my mouth to breathe but he fills it instead with his still-slick cock. I taste the iron bite of my lost innocence upon it, my own desire and the salty taste of his seed all mixed together.

  He opens my mouth with his fingers and drives his cock into it with quick, downward motions. I suck on it as he commands, helpless against the strong thrusts and battering of his sack against my chin.

  His pubic hair presses against my nose as he reaches the back of my throat, his cock head choking me of air. He pulls back and drives forward again into my bruised lips, twisting my hair cruelly in his hand and using it to work my head back and forth. I smell the strong fragrance of his sex, the saltiness on his skin, the sweat and need gathered around his cock.