Modern Fairy Tales Ch. 02

But the sheriff didn't ejaculate. Instead, he pulled Gretel's mouth off his penis, leaving strands of saliva that trailed from his cock to her flushed lips. Gretel gasped, and for the first time, looked up to the man she serviced.

"That was a nice appetizer, girl," growled Fred, pushing up from his stool and roughly turning Gretel around. He shoved her against one of the tables in the dining room, bending her over. "Time for the main course."

Gretel whimpered, clawing the surface of the table, feeling the sheriff's cock nudging its way between her lips. Her arousal had vanished, leaving her dry, but her saliva upon Fred's cock allowed him to push inside her. She cried out in pain, feeling her labia pinched and turned inward with the intrusion. But her exclamation was more from the debasement she felt, being taken the way she was, and by a man who saw her as nothing more than a tool to be used.

"Fuck, you're tight, girl! God damn! Oh, this is gonna be a good fuck!"

Gretel grunted, or moaned, or mewled with each hard thrust the sheriff made within her, not one of her emissions the result of pleasure. Her face contorted with humiliation, made worse when she saw Meg standing by the stainless steel door, arms folded, a smug smile on her face as she watched.

Again and again the sheriff drove inside the girl, gripping her hips, groping around for her pert breasts. Gretel gritted her teeth when he pinched her nipples again, silently cursing her own body as jolts of pleasure raced down to her clitoris. But that tiny thrill could not overcome her sense of degradation.

Finally, thick, meaty hands squeezing her hips, the sheriff plunged deep inside the girl, shaking. "Oh, fuck! Here it comes, girl! Here it comes!"

God, no, please, no, God . . . Gretel squeezed her eyes shut, suffering the spasms of the man against her, the hot rush that spread through her womb as the sheriff's seed poured within. Fred moaned and sighed with his release, jabbing a few times, giving in to the rippling of Gretel's vaginal muscles around his spurting shaft.

"Oh . . . man . . . fuck, that's nice . . . so nice . . . ."

The sheriff's enjoyment of the moment only worsened it for Gretel. She lowered her head to the table, sobbing quietly, waiting for the man to be done with her and leave.

Beside the door to the kitchen, Meg smirked, eyes smoldering as she beheld the scene.

***

Hansel sat morose within his cage, gaze darting back and forth between the cell floor and the door to the room. Gretel had been gone for almost an hour, he figured. He wondered what atrocities, what pain, the witch was inflicting upon his sister. That he was helpless to prevent any of it sapped at his soul.

He had spent the first several minutes looking for any possible way out of the cage. But there was no lock that he could find, and the bars were too narrow for him to slip through. The floor and back of the cage were covered with relatively soft pressboard. He could not even make a weapon from it.

Melancholy and despair had set in, leaving Hansel numb. The fact that he could not hear anything that occurred outside the room in which his cell sat was both comforting and disturbing. Yet still, he felt flashes of intense emotion now and then, feelings of abasement and mortification. Gretel's pain, he knew, though he knew not what was happening to her.

When the door opened, Hansel shot to his feet, gripping the bars once more. Meg the witch shoved Gretel before her, sending Hansel's sister sprawling upon the floor. Hansel gritted his teeth in anger at the sight of his naked, angry sister. "What'd ya do t' her!" he shouted.

Meg smiled haughtily, gesturing. The other cage sprang open with a metallic clatter. "I'll let your sister tell you about it," she said, stooping to grab a handful of Gretel's short, thick hair. The girl struggled fiercely, clawing at the witch's hand before being thrown into the cage. The door slammed down loudly, making all the cages rattle.

"Gretel?" asked Hansel, looking with concern upon his twin.

But she ignored him for the moment, clamoring to her feet to grasp and shake the bars of her cage. "Ya evil fuckin' bitch! I'm gonna kill ya!" she shrieked.

Meg only laughed, stepping from the room. The door swept closed behind her. Gretel shook the bars of her cage, screaming incoherently for a moment or so, then shoved herself back, falling to the floor of her cage.

Hansel was quiet for several beats of his anxious heart, watching Gretel as she curled her legs up and hugged them. She glared out at nothing in particular, chin rest upon her reddened knees, rocking back and forth.

"What happened?" Hansel asked at last.

Gretel's temples bulged as she ground her teeth. "Nothin'."

Hansel sighed. "Ya can't tell me that," he said. "I can tell when ya—"

"I said, nothin'!" yelled Gretel, her violet eyes vivid with misdirected anger. She resumed her rocking.

Hansel slumped, sitting down in his cage, reaching through the bars for his sister. "We're gonna get outta here," he said.

Gretel rocked in silence, eyes darting to her twin's hand. Finally, her eyes grew moist, then began dripping anew. She grabbed Hansel's hand and pulled herself as close to him as the cage walls would allow. The tears poured freely, drenching her cheeks, dripping down to her body.

"One way or 'nother, we gonna get outta here," Hansel vowed, slipping his arm around his sister's shoulders, beneath her chin. Gretel clutched at him tightly, sobbing.

"We better," she whispered between blubbery sniffles. "We better . . . ."

***

The sound of the door opening roused the twins from sleep. Following more tears, Gretel had shared with her brother what had happened with the sheriff. Hansel's first reaction had been rage, but he forced himself to be calm for his sister's sake. They had spoken throughout most of the night, about everything from their current predicament to life back in Brimstone. Eventually, fatigue had claimed them, and they fell asleep in their cages, curled up upon their sides and facing on another through the bars that separated them.

Meg -- in her 'pretty' guise -- carried a laden tray into the room, setting it down before the cages. Hansel and Gretel warily sat up, turning to face their captor.

"When ya gonna let us go?" Hansel asked the witch.

Meg smiled radiantly, settling into a lotus position on the floor. "Once I get what I want," she said, meeting Hansel's gaze meaningfully.

Gretel frowned as Hansel looked away. "What ya want with him? He ain't done nothin'!"

Meg showed teeth as she grinned. "And that's exactly why I want him," she said.

Gretel frowned. "That don't make no sense."

"No, I suppose it doesn't, to simpletons like you. But then, you don't know anything about witches," Meg said. "You see, witches can live for a very long time. But to do so, we have to complete certain rituals and potions. Some are very complicated."

"So what's that have'ta do with me?" asked Hansel.

"Simple," responded Meg, licking her lips lecherously. "I want you to make love to me."

Hansel balked, nearly retching, recalling the images of Meg in her hideousness. "No way! You're a monster!"

Meg's face darkened malevolently. "I never said you had a choice, boy," she glowered. "Now, eat up. I don't want a single crumb left on those plates." Abruptly shoving herself to her feet, the witch left the room. Hansel and Gretel both shuddered as the door slammed shut behind her.

"What we gonna do, Greta?" asked Hansel worriedly. "I don't wanna make it for th' first time with that nasty old hag!"

Gretel's eyes shone with sympathy. "I know, Han. But let's at least eat. Maybe we can figure somethin' out."

The twins dragged the tray closer, each taking up a plate loaded with eggs, grits, hashed browns and biscuits. They had to hold them outside of the cage and feed themselves through the bars.

"Ugh! How'm I sposed'ta eat after what that witch just said? Just th' thought o' her naked . . . ump!"

***

Meg returned nearly an hour later, smiling with all the grace and charm of a doting parent upon seeing the empty plates and glasses. She held a small red vial in her hands, cradling it reverently as if it were the Holy Grail. A casual arcane gesture sent the tray with its empty plates sliding across the room, startling the twins.

"I have something for you, Hansel," she said with a soft, sultry voice. "But first, you need to get out of those clothes."

Hansel paled. Oh, sweet Jesus . . . she wants t' do it now? In front'a Greta? His eyes darted back and forth between the witch and his sister. Gretel stared back, wide-eyed and equally appalled.

Meg laughed. "No, not yet, sweetie," she said, as if reading Hansel's mind. "You may look sweet, but you sure don't smell like it."

Hansel blushed deeply in embarrassment, casting his eyes down. Not that he wanted the witch's favor, but he certainly felt her disapproval.

"Come on, my little man," Meg continued, her voice tinged with a patronizing tone. "Get those clothes off, and I'll let you out so you can take a nice, long shower. Come on, now."

Hansel hesitated, glancing to his sister. Despite the fact that Gretel was fully nude, Hansel was reluctant. Still, he pulled of his shirt, then his dirty old shoes and socks, peeling them off his skin. The aromas released nearly made his eyes water. Gretel gagged.

"I can smell you from here," muttered Meg with dislike. "Go on, take it all off."

Ashamed, Hansel nevertheless complied, shoving his pants and underwear down to his ankles. Keeping his eyes on the dirty wooden floor of his cage, he stood, naked and degraded, for the witch's assessment.

"Hmm," muttered Meg, letting her eyes wander down the slender man's form, pausing to inspect his tumescent penis. "I see potential . . . ."

Hansel fidgeted, red-faced, peripherally noting the eyes of his sister upon him. She, too, looked where the witch's attention was focused. In self-admonishment, she turned away, chewing her lower lip.

"Well, let's get you cleaned up," announced Meg. "Then we'll begin."

***

Gretel was anxious when her brother returned, walking naked before the tall, stately Meg, his head bowed and eyes following the lines of the floor. She could not help but admire how admiringly her slightly-younger brother had filled out. A lifetime of hard chores and typical playtime had toned him well; his abdomen was flat and firm, his waist narrow, legs and arms naturally rippling with casual strength. If nothing else, Gretel could admire her brother as a handsome man.

The witch returned him to his cell, and Hansel turned to face her through the bars once the door clanged shut. His clothes were gone, removed to the same bin, Gretel was certain, in which her own now lay.

"Drink this," the witch ordered, holding out the ruby-colored flask.

Gingerly, Hansel took the vial, pulled the stopper, sniffed. His features contorted in recoil at the foul smell. "What is it?"

Meg glared. "You don't want to know," she said. "Just drink it. All of it. Now."

Hansel sought his sister's encouragement with his eyes; reluctantly, she gave it. Neither of them knew what would happen if Hansel drank the strange brew, but they intrinsically understood what would happen if he did not.

Begrudgingly, Hansel tilted the mouth of the vial against his lips, pouring a thick, syrupy concoction into his mouth that possessed the consistency of oil and the flavor of rancid meat and rotten vegetables. He gagged and choked, struggling to get it all down. Once the potion was swirling in his stomach, he heaved dryly a few times, feeling acid burn into his throat. Yet he managed to keep the retched swill down.

Meg grinned. "Good boy," she chided, then gestured. Gretel's cage shook as the door lifted upward. "Come on out," the witch said to the girl.

Apprehensively, wondering what Meg had in mind, Gretel crawled out, settling into a crouch upon the cool tiled floor.

"Get on your knees before your brother," Meg instructed. "I'll let you do the honors."

Gretel frowned. "What'ya mean?"

Meg glared darkly, her eyes flashing crimson. "Do as I say!"

Gretel flinched, then did as she had been directed, settling onto her knees and facing Hansel through the bars. For a moment, her eyes rest upon her brother's flaccid penis, but she quickly lifted them to his face, offering encouragement and hope.

Meg lowered herself beside the young woman, all but pressing herself against Gretel. "Now . . . watch."

Gretel began to question what it was she was supposed to see, but her words were stifled as Hansel moaned, eyes closing as if drunken. He swayed upon his feet, and gripped the bars before him to maintain his footing. His muscles tensed, and hips were thrust out. The soft length of flesh hanging between his thighs began to stiffen rapidly, angling outward, swiftly growing to full length within a matter of heartbeats.

Gretel caught her breath as she gazed upon Hansel's erect cock. The entire shaft, and especially the head, glowed with the blood that filled it. Glistening moisture seeped from the tip, dribbling down the length of the staff or dripping to the floor. Hansel's expression was one of detached arousal.

"Now, Gretel," whispered Meg. "Wrap your hands around it. Stroke it. It won't take long."

Gretel shuddered, a mixture of revulsion, fascination, and arousal swirling in her mind. She barely registered the feel of Meg's hands cupping her breasts, running up and down her abdomen as she reached through the bars of Hansel's cage and took hold of her own brother's throbbing cock. Driven by fear of the consequences should she disobey the witch, and by fascination for the moment, she began tugging on Hansel's tense phallus.

"That's it," whispered Meg in the girl's ear, squeezing Gretel's firm breasts, lightly pinching her nipples. "He'll cum quickly. Catch it all in your hands."

Gretel felt detached, like an automaton, masturbating her brother. Hansel seemed oblivious, his eyes closed, rocking back and forth on his heels. Now and then he thrust out toward his sister, and would grunt when he did so. Gretel pumped faster and firmer, her fingers becoming slick with the oily effusion which seeped from the slit of Hansel's penis.

Finally, Hansel gasped and groaned loudly, his body jerking and face contorting. From deep within, thick, milky fluid surged forth, flowing and occasionally spurting, filling the fleshy cup Gretel made of her left hand. The warm pool of semen overflowed her hand, a little of itdripping down along her wrist and to the floor below. Gretel tugged to get it all out, enthralled at the sight.

"Quickly, in the jar," urged Meg, holding up a small, wide-mouthed brown jar that looked to have once been the home of some kind of jam or marmalade. Dutifully, Gretel withdrew her hand and tilted it, pouring the cloudy, thick fluid into the jar. Meg helped, scraping a long, blue-nailed finger down Gretel's palm, smearing it a bit in Hansel's sperm.

Casually, the witch sucked her finger clean, and held up the jar. She made a gesture, staring at the contents within. After a few moments, a clouded, disappointed expression colored her face. "Not enough," she said.

Gretel felt a wave of panic. "What'ya mean?"

Meg sighed as she stood. "It means this will take a little longer than I thought. Get back in your cage, girl."

"No!" cried Gretel, shooting to her feet. Her eyes blazed with youthful, unrestrained rage. "I wanna know -- ah!" She cried out as she was thrown backward by an invisible hand, deposited rudely in her cage. The door slammed shut.

"You'll know what I want you to know," snarled Meg before she left.

Gretel stared after, naked breasts rising and falling. But her anger was mitigated as she looked to Hansel, slumped in the cage beside hers. He seemed drained; his eyes were heavy, mouth slack.

"Han? Ya 'kay?"

Slowly, he nodded. "Uh-huh . . . ." Then he pitched to his side and promptly passed out.

***

Later that day, then again that evening, Meg returned with more of the bile-inducing potion for Hansel to consume. As before, the concoction resulted in a rapid erection yet less and less fogging of Hansel's mind. And as before, the witch directed Greta to masturbate her brother to orgasm. The third time, however, was a bit different. Hansel stood up against the bars, thrusting his pelvis out so that his arcanely engorged cock protruded through the bars. That made it easier for Gretel to stroke his stiff length, but it also gave Meg a perverse idea.

"Put it in your mouth, Gretel," the witch seethed through clenched teeth, pushing on the back of the girl's head. "Suck it out of him."

Gretel gasped with revulsion. "But, he's my brother -- mmph!"

Meg grinned, forcing the dark-haired girl's mouth down upon Hansel's stiffness. Heat spread through the witch as one twin's lips wrapped around the other's cock. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it," she whispered coarsely. "Don't tell me you've never wanted it. If I'd had a twin . . . I'd never have left the bedroom."

Gretel murmured, such sounds muffled by the stiff length of flesh sliding back and forth in her mouth. The fact that it was her own brother she was sucking off both perturbed . . . and excited her. She hated to admit that the witch was right; now and then, in fact, Gretel had entertained speculative thoughts of what it would be like to bed her own brother.

"Good girl," encouraged Meg as Gretel's head bobbed back and forth. She toyed with the girl's stiff nipples, even delved her fingers between Gretel's taut thighs to feel the pool of wetness between. "Make him cum in your mouth . . . but don't swallow . . . ."

Gretel moaned, but only partly from disgust or discomfort. She looked up at Hansel's face, saw him staring back with stupefied eyes. He could have pulled back, Gretel knew. There was no witch behind him keeping him in place. But he did not. In fact, he seemed to try to push forward even more, making the bars of the cage dig into his lower abdomen and upper thighs. It was obvious to his sister that Hansel relished the sensations she gave him. That fact, for some reason, inspired Gretel.

She's suckin' my cock! Hansel thought, watching Gretel's slick lips as they delved down again and again along his quivering shaft. He was suddenly grateful for the fact that the potion no longer clouded his mind. I can't believe how good it feels! My own sister is . . . is . . . Oh, God—

Before he knew it, before he could warn her, Hansel was ejaculating, pouring his seed into Gretel's mouth. The warm fluid gushing to the back of her throat made her gag momentarily, but she managed to keep her composure. Though reflex almost sent the bittersweet liquid down to her stomach, she was heedful of the Witch's command of not swallowing. Yet there seemed to be almost too much; it threatened to overflow the seal of her lips.

Hansel trembled in bliss, enjoying the perverse pleasure he now felt to the utmost. The fact that Gretel's gaze never wavered from his only intensified his orgasm. He had never imagined how beautiful and erotic his own sister could be, how completely satisfying it would be to spend his passion between her lips.

"Yes," hissed Meg with approval. She petted the back of Gretel's head as if the girl were an obedient pet. "Make sure you get it all. Squeeze it with your hands . . . yes, that's it. Good girl, Greta."

Gretel blinked a few times, smelling nothing but the piquant aroma of Hansel's cum. She slipped her lips from her twin's penis, leaving it glistening as it slowly softened. Meg's hand holding another small, dark jar appeared before her, silently commanding her to discharge the contents of her mouth. For a moment, Gretel considered swallowing her brother's fluid, just to confound the witch. But there was no telling how the witch would respond.