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

  Buried deep in my throat, he pushes and presses until a white tempest builds before me and I’m sure I will drift from this world.

  He pulls back just in time to leave me gasping. “That’s enough. My cock grows weak.”

  In spite of his actions, there’s a tingling and deep need everywhere he has touched. I want him to fill me again, an urgency uncorrected between my legs. I find myself longing for the taste of his member, even if it brings me to death.

  What strange spell has he cast over me that even under the eyes of my closet friends and family I should feel and flush so?

  My cunt is wet, my essence running in thin rivulets down my thighs as I wait.

  The Prince converses with one of his men while another reattaches my gag. He returns holding a short conical object before me. In the shafted light from the windows above it practically glows. It appears made of jade or emerald or some other rare jewel, beautiful to the eye.

  “Do you know what this is, Beauty? Shake or nod your head.”

  I shake my head.

  “King?” the Prince queries.

  “I beg you, kind Prince. She has suffered enough,” the king replies.

  He Prince points at my father. “If he speaks again, cut out his tongue.”

  The guard with the blade to my father’s neck nods and presses it a little tighter against his skin. The entire court is sobbing and crying. Only my father remains resolute.

  “I call it the Invader. Let me show you how it works, Princess.”

  Again, the Prince moves behind me. I tighten, panting hard and sweating profusely from the strong light that illuminates this awful act.

  The Prince pinches the soft puppy flesh at the back of my thighs and calves. I feel hatred for him more than any man I have known, but paradoxically I also crave his attention. My head is awash with conflict, my body and mind at odds.

  My breath becomes uneven as the moisture between my leg grows, a fruit split and opened and now letting free its wet delights.

  He massages my rump and hips, testing and probing my flesh for resilience. His hands fall on my buttocks and I mew around the gag as he splits them wide apart so that the starred orifice between them spreads. He spits on it, rubbing the saliva into the tight rose with the flat of his thumb. He works the tip inside my anus, screwing and twisting it inside me.

  He removes his thumb and I can hear him sucking it, murmuring his approval at the tart taste of my virgin asshole.

  A cold pressure falls into the crack of my ass and presses up against the twisted pit there. I struggle harder understanding now the tool’s purpose.

  The Prince adds more pressure and my anus begins to relent even as I squeeze it shut. Laughing, the Prince drives it harder, the wedged tip sliding past my sphincter and into the hot darkness beyond.

  It’s too large. It will kill me if it moves any further, but the Prince is unperturbed. He continues to press the heavy device forward until section by painful section half of it is imbedded into my burning rump.

  He halts proceedings, allowing the constriction of my ass to widen and stretch around this new torture. When he’s ready, he pulls it out to the tip and presses it even deeper, my anus stretched painfully wide and salty tears running into my mouth around the gag, cooling on my cheeks as I watch the ensemble court though the glassy ponds of my eyes.

  My sex and now my most private and taboo area have been defiled. The whole court has been witness. I can slide no further into disgrace.

  The flared butt of the Invader flattens against my ass as the very last of the device is swallowed up into my behind.

  “A spellbinding sight,” says the Prince, working the plug in and out, twisting it and reaming my hole until pain flowers into pleasure, a deep and thrilling need that opens my sex wider and sends a fresh gush of desire onto the polished floor below.

  I find myself pressing backwards, moaning around the gag as my pale skin flushes and the familiar tightness I felt in my chamber returns.

  No, not in front of Father, but I cannot stop it.

  The Prince removes the Invader and it’s replaced by a far more pliant and rubbery shaft. Holding my ass wide, he fucks my forbidden hole with brutal speed, plunging into the widened orifice with a mad ferocity. He spanks, pinches and slaps at my body as he takes me, cock as hard as ever. I buck back against him, the wood of the pillory scuffing against my wrists.

  The pull increases, growing and growing until I am about to spill over.

  No, no, no, but my body says otherwise.

  The Princes reaches between my legs and with the flat of his palm covers my mound.

  I release, jerking and flapping in the pillory like a headless fowl. The sensation is too great and I drift away into unconsciousness, darkness folding over me. The last thing I’m aware of is the Prince’s high laughter as he releases a thick and hearty stream of seed right into the dark confines of my ass.

  *

  “She returns!”

  I cough and splutter, cold water turning my skin to gooseflesh. One of my former chambermaids casts another bucket of water over my face and body. I cry out again, no longer gagged but shaking against the cold liquid.

  Between my legs there is a dull and persistent aching. I feel wide as a moat, open in the extreme and fearful my sex and now ass will never be the same again. My legs and thighs are wet, with what I do not know.

  “Clean me,” the Prince commands, pressing his seed-slickened member against my lips. I open my mouth and lathe him with my tongue, tasting myself, my ass, upon him.

  When he’s satisfied, he crouches before me. Still, I see no life in his eyes, only endless cruelty.

  “I have many men,” he tells me. “Men who have marched for days without proper food or the warmth of a woman’s cunt to comfort them. Should I deny them?”

  I’m unsure of his words.

  “What do you say, men?” He stands, looking to his men, who reply with a great cheer.

  He gathers my hair in his hand and uses it to wipe his cock. I can still smell the pungent aroma of my ass it.

  The Prince gestures to my raised rump. “Who will be first?”

  There is a great rush behind me as the Prince’s men jostle for position.

  Rough, grubby hands pinch and pull at me, my body shifted to and fro. The first cock to enter me is large in girth and I gasp out again. It drives right against the door to my womb, pulling out and running into my ass.

  So it is that I am taken by the Prince’s men as he watches on seated with delight. Man after man has his way with my young body. They spank me with whatever implements they can find, spill their seed over my back and face until I am glazed in seed from head to toe.

  Soon the Great Hall stinks of conquest and sweat, mead flowing freely as darkness falls outside and only candlelight unmasks the horrors afoot.

  My father collapses onto the table, the sight too much to bear.

  Yet with every man my need grows until I shake and quiver again, coming in waves of pleasure, drowning in my own selfish release as I cry and sob, hair stained wet with my tears as they carve a clear trail through the seed that coasts my face.

  Eventually, the court is allowed to leave, but the Prince’s men continue to have their fill of my body until I am barely consciousness, limp in the pillory in a pool of seed.

  The last man kicks out behind me, releasing over the raw lips of my sex.

  The Prince commands his men to leave, crouching beside me now dressed in his full regalia and looking everything I am not.

  “I will have a bath prepared at once, salves and creams brought. You will be a beauty again. You will be my beauty.”

  The Prince leaves and returns with a towel, cleaning my body with care before releasing me from the pillory. He picks up like a feather in his powerful arms. I cannot move. I am too weak.

  My head falls into the crook of his shoulder. My mouth goes slack.

  I feel soft blankets below me. He coves my mouth in lax, wet kisses, calling in my ma
ids to clean and soothe me.

  Could it be that the Prince has had his fill of cruelty? Could it be that, shamed, I will now to treated with respect?

  A great copper bath is filled. My maids lift me into it, the hot water flowing between my legs and causing me to quiver once more.

  I’m washed and dressed, once more an invalid as I’m lifted back onto the same narrow bed from which I was awakened from the enchantment.

  “I am sorry, my love,” whispers the Prince, quietly undressing beside the bed, but you will come to see in time how good it is for you.”

  Unclothed, he lies beside me and runs a finger into my numb sex. “My cock aches for you, Beauty. Will you not let it find comfort in your body once more?”

  I cannot resist him. His touch is soft and tender, nothing like the clawed fingers that grasped and handled me so roughly in the Great Hall. It feels like a dream, a surreal world not grounded in the reality I face now.

  He turns me sideways and caresses my buttocks still red and raw from the constant blows of his men. His fingers brush through my pubic hair as he strokes and tantalises me. My breasts and face suffuse scarlet and I am yet again under his spell.

  “I must confess,” says the Prince, rolling me onto my back and propping himself up between my legs, “that it was my grandfather who was the thirteenth guest. He was a great sorcerer. It was he who put the enchantment on this palace.”

  With this confession the Prince enters me, my eyes wide.

  “On his death bed he told me of the palace, how to cleave the vines that ensnare it and of the beauty that lay dormant at its core.” He strokes into my wet sheath languidly while he recounts the tale.

  I cannot believe it. The Prince who has freed us is a successor of the very man responsible for our confinement.

  “You will not speak of this,” the Prince continues, pumping into me in swift, short strokes.

  I grow hot and tight, clenching myself around his cock.

  “If you do there shall be a terrible punishment far beyond your imaginings.”

  With three more strokes he releases. He collapses against me, my breasts sealed to his warm chest and my cheek resting against the hard angle of his shoulder. His thick organ slips out of my cunt and sits wetly against my thigh as he strokes my open sex.

  “Sleep well now, Beauty,” the Prince whispers in my ear, “for there are many kingdoms under my control… and many men for you to satisfy.”

  PUNISHING SNOW WHITE

  It was midwinter when the Queen of the Kingdom bore a daughter of immeasurable beauty. The child had skin white as snow, lips of blood red and hair black as night itself. So it was that she became known as Snow-White throughout the Kingdom.

  The Queen and King rejoiced, but soon after the Queen was struck ill and died.

  The King married once more, but the new Queen was vain and jealous of Snow-White’s beauty. She asked of her magic mirror:

  Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

  Who in this land is fairest of all?

  The mirror answered,

  You, my Queen, are fairest of all.

  This satisfied the Queen until Snow-White’s eighteenth birthday. Over the years Snow-White had become even more beautiful, growing and filling out her small frame to become the envy of all in the Kingdom. Women whispered around her, the britches of men grew tight and constricted in her presence, but innocent and pure, Snow-White paid no heed.

  The Queen asked of the mirror.

  Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

  Who in this land is fairest of all?

  And the mirror replied.

  You, my Queen, are fair, it is true.

  But Snow-White is a thousand times fairer than you.

  Enraged, the Queen summoned a huntsman to be found. Pulled from a local tavern, the Huntsman came on bent knee in front of the Queen. Her request was simple: “Take Snow-White to the woods and kill her, bringing her lungs and liver back to me so I may sup on them and swallow her beauty.”

  The Huntsman went about the gruesome task, snatching up Snow-White and taking her under the cloak of darkness deep into the woods. Here even the townsfolk would not venture, for magic and witchcraft were afoot in the very wind that whistled through the trees.

  Snow-White cowered against a tree bathed a pale blue under the moonlight. Free from the burlap sack he had smuggled her in, the Huntsman saw that indeed her beauty was great. Her skin was as porcelain, luminous and opaque. Her hair hung in straight curtains either side of her face, lips full and open. He wondered how such lips might feel enclosed around his cock, for it had been a long time since he was with a woman. The idea flourished. His loins stirred as he shifted the knife around in his hand.

  “Please,” Snow-White begged him, her voice light as a feather plucked from heaven itself, “do not harm me. I have done you no wrong.”

  “Why should I let you go? The Queen will have my head if I do not do her bidding.”

  Tears gathered in Snow-White’s eyes. She knelt before the Huntsman in supplication and he saw down her cleavage. “Please,” she pleaded, “I will do anything.”

  Seizing the opportunity, the Huntsman responded, “My heart grows heavy for you, and I shall let you live. I ask only simple pleasure in return.”

  Just eighteen summers, Snow-White was ill-informed of the manners of men, but she nodded in agreement.

  The Huntsman drew his britches down and out sprang a thick and lengthy cock, gnarled and twisted at the tip from a childhood accident.

  Snow-White gasped, for she had never seen such a sight. Her stomach stirred and she felt a small fire light in her loins at the unnatural sight.

  The Huntsman smiled. This creature truly was innocent. She reminded him of his first kill, a doe cornered in a cave.

  He stepped towards her and lowered the head of his sex to her lips, instructing her to hold it firmly with her hand and take it into her mouth.

  Timidly, Snow-White followed his instructions, parting her lips and engulfing the knob of his cock while her soft fingers gathered around his root.

  The princess was a quick learner. She mewed and moaned around his cock, saliva building hot in her mouth as her tiny head bobbed up and down upon his pole. Even in the moonlight he could see the way her breathing had become laboured, the way she pressed her thighs together on the forest floor and relished in the act of sucking him.

  Peeling her fingers away, he drew his cock from her lips to cool in the night air. Her eyes rolled up to him, open and needy. “Did I not please you, Huntsman?”

  Lifting her up, the Huntsman replied, “You please me very much, child, but it is your cunt, not your mouth, in which I want to finish.”

  Snow-White could not grasp his meaning until he turned her around and pressed her hard against the knurled surface of the tree trunk. Her pulled her arms around the great circumference of the tree and bound her hands together with rope from his sack, pulling the bonds tight until she could not move.

  Snow-White laid her cheek against the bark and waited as the Huntsman came behind her, running his knife up the side of her night dress until it fell from her body with barely a whisper.

  Creatures cooed and sang all around as the Huntsman ran his hands over Snow-White’s naked body, taking in the shallow depressions at the base of her spine, the way her shoulders hunched and breasts remained compressed against the trunk of the tree. As he held and weighed her ass in one hand, he ran his knife over the corrugations of her ribs with the other.

  It would be so easy, he thought, to cut and gut her after the act, but although he had fallen on ill times, the Huntsman was a man of his word. He would take her innocence and then leave her to the woods and the creatures that called it home. They would finish her quickly. Nothing would be left.

  When the Huntsman spread Snow-White’s legs, pressing himself into the hot space between them, the princess went to jerk away but could make no progress in her bonds. “Huntsman, what are you doing?” Her voice was high and panicked.

&n
bsp; The Huntsman responded by slapping her hard on the ass cheek with the flat of his blade. “Why, taking your innocence, child.”

  The Huntsman thrust home, lifting Snow-White off her feet and plunging through the resistance of her maidenhead and into the warm compression of her cunt.

  Snow-White gasped against the tree. The Huntsman held her shoulders, pressing her down upon his shaft until he filled her completely, her sex slowly stretching around his cock as a warm trickle of her stolen purity trailed down her thigh. He drew it up with his fingertip and tasted its iron bite, smiling to himself as he drove into her again, taking her over and over until her cries turned to moans and she pleaded with him for more.

  “Yes, Huntsman,” she wailed, happily moving of her own accord and grinding against the bark, “please.”

  Naïve, Snow-White knew not what she was asking or begging for until it arrived, engulfing her senses completely and forcing the narrow constriction of her sex to flutter and convulse around the Huntsman’s deformed member. Already teetering at the edge, the princess whimpered and glove-like kiss of her sex became too much. The Huntsman hilted himself as far as his cock could manage and, with a great cry, let forth his release.

  He coated her insides well with his seed, years of build-up pumped deep into her womb and pressing out around the root of his cock as he drew himself back and forth in her slickness.

  The act completed, he withdrew and cut her down, leaving her panting and open to the elements and will of the forest.

  On his journey back he could still smell her upon his cock, stabbing a boar on the way and cleaving its lungs and liver from its still-warm body.

  He presented the gruesome gift to the Queen upon his return and was rewarded with great riches, for Snow-White was no more and the mirror would finally speak truth.

  *

  Snow-White walked with splayed legs through the woods. The mound between her legs still throbbed where it was filled by the Huntsman. She wrapped her arms around herself, nipples like arrowheads under her arms as she searched for shelter.