A Dickgirl Fairytale

"Touch yourself," he commanded as he thrust and she whelped like a wounded puppy. With one hand on her neck, the priest held her down. His other hand was on her hip to help guide him all the way to her center. Ella's dick bobbed and dribbled and seemed to be crying for him to finish. "Touch yourself while I fuck the devil out of you, demon," his voice was hoarse and full of his hateful need.

"No!" Ella cried in defiance. She would not pleasure herself, not like this. She wouldn't cum for him, like this. Losing her virginity like this, with this evil bastard inside of her was enough. "No, I will not!" she fought him with clenched teeth but still couldn't get away.

"Do it, devil bitch or I'll drag you to the town square and let the peasants have their way with you!" He muttered, his slimy sweat dripping from his face to her neck.

"Oh God," she wailed. His cock seemed to burrow into her soul and Ella ached to her depths. Her right hand lingered there on her prone flesh. Her staff was still fully hard and oh so ready to burst. "God, please don't make me!" she begged pitifully.

Friar Charles had picked up the pace. He fully fucked her with every inch of his manhood. His thighs slammed her legs into the table as he rutted. He forced his way in deeper and deeper, faster and faster. The man was more a beast than a man, like a stallion gone wild in the stable. "God has nothing to do with this, whore," he called out. His breath came faster and faster as he impaled her on the full length of his cock.

Ella met his pace, stroke for stroke. There was the white, hot pain that seared inside. Yet with every thrust the pain was with a luscious wave of desire that coursed through her hips. Her body was at once hot and cold and heavy and full. When the head of the priest's cock touched a nerve inside, the pain melted into an entirely new sensation. It sent a bolt of sheer exhilaration from her newly stretched asshole all the way down to her little toes. Once again, the head of his cock hit the nerve and Ella clamped her lips shut to keep the noise deep down inside. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was on the brink.

Ella didn't want him to know that she loved the feel of his bristly, thick manhood plunged down inside of her. Her legs trembled as she rose up on her tiptoes and stroked herself faster and faster. Lost in ecstasy and shame, she whispered unintelligible words under her breath as her dick did a little dance for the two of them. It spit and drizzled in her hand. Her orgasm was just there, just seconds away.

Father Charles' body stiffened behind her and she could hear the silent roar as his pulse became hers. Their bodies became one as she fought to be free and yet sank to surrender. He unleashed his unholy pleasure deep into her bowels. "Take that, devil child," he cried out as he thrust every last spurt inside and stuffed her full of his thick, slimy load.

"No! Oh no!" Ella screamed as it began. She wished that she could stop it. She wished that she could have held back and yet there was nothing to do but explode. She shuddered and rode the spasm of heat and longing that had taken over her body. The man had possessed her, opened her and decimated her. It was the largest orgasm Ella had ever seen and she moaned as she watched the milk pour from her cock. It covered the kitchen table. Her pleasure, her body had come undone and Ella knew that she was truly a whore now.

Once Father Charles had finished coming inside her, he pushed Ella off and she fell to the floor. There was no more life left in her arms or legs to steady herself on her feet. She curled up into a ball and closed her eyes. Ella wished that he would disappear, wished that none of it were real, wished that she were still a little girl and never knew the ways of men. The priest squatted down next to her and informed her that this wasn't the end of it. "Next time your little asshole will be more forgiving," he told her with a sneer. "Perhaps I'll sample your mouth as well. It's the talk of the town," Friar Charles laughed to himself as he straightened. "I'll say mass for your father tomorrow girl. Be thankful that he's not able to see what you've become."

The priest left her to her tears and her humiliation. The hot, sticky reminder of where he'd been dripped from her throbbing entry. At that moment, Ella nodded her head and agreed with the old bastard on one thing only. She was grateful that her father couldn't see what had happened to her.

***

The sun already hung low in the west by the time that Ella arrived at the cemetery. She followed the path that was familiar although she had only walked it once before. She had only come to the cemetery to bid her mother farewell after her mass and that had been with her father by her side. Ella recalled that he had been heavy on her arm. She remembered Lord Hastings had held her hand and clung to her as if he needed his daughter to steady him on his feet. It felt strange to be here without him.

At the headstone with the Hastings name on it, Celestria's date of birth and death were already carved there and the babies that had died with her were only mentioned with dates. The wooden stake in the earth indicated the place that her father had been laid to rest and Ella had brought some wild flowers that she'd picked from what used to be their garden.

She sank to her knees and felt the dewy grass kiss her skirt. It hadn't been that long ago when she was just a girl. Her life had always been good and simple. Hastings Manor was a happy home, filled with laughter and dancing. Her parents had been madly in love, of that she had always been certain. Her father had always had a look in his eye for Celestria. There had been passion to be sure but there was always something more there. It had been absolute adoration and his bride had returned it with a glow about her whenever she had been in her lord's presence. Ella could clearly recall her mother's words that a young man would see her and fall madly in love with her, even with the secret that she carried. Her sweet father had echoed Celestria's sentiments but so far, Ella shook her head to herself, she had seen very little kindness from men.

Ella was almost certain that she could feel her parent's presence here. The evening air was cool and crisp but that wasn't why the hair stood up on her arms. It was the quiet knowledge that washed over her that yes, indeed, she was not alone in this place. Yet, she had no words. Ella had never been taught to pray. Church was something to attend for weddings and funerals. After her experience with the priest the day before, prayers would seem hollow and almost blasphemous.

"I miss you," Ella whispered into the wind and felt that her cheeks were wet, one tear on each. When she closed her eyes, she could feel her parents holding her tight in their embrace.

There was more to this visit than just bittersweet memories though, it was time to say goodbye. "I'm running away," Ella whispered. It was too much of a secret to say out loud, even here, away from prying eyes and ears. She had decided it at some point in the night when the aches from all of her many pains had kept her awake. This wasn't the life that her parents had intended for her and if neither of them were here anymore, then was this even home?

Margery could have Hastings Manor. Good luck to the old bitch trying to keep it intact once she had no one else left to pimp. Even if she hadn't learned any prayers, Ella still believed in something. Perhaps it was just magic, perhaps it was just her imagination, but she believed that Thomas and Celestria looked down on her. They would guide and protect her in their own way. "Please watch over me once I leave," she whispered her simple request. Ella had already started to charge some of her customers money. As of this afternoon, she already had three coins pressed into an old leather satchel that she had buried under the potatoes.

Ella closed her eyes and clasped her hands reverently. She thought of her mother's laugh and her father twirling her. She could almost smell her mother in the night air, her soap scent and the warmth that radiated from her flaxen hair. She could almost feel her father's girth. She could almost feel the safety of his solid arms around her as she imagined him picking her up and kissing both of her cheeks.

If only she could have turned at that moment but magic has a way of hovering there, just out of the corner of your eye. It often goes about unseen and merely feels like a shadow or a yearning. The figure seemed to be made of fireflies or star dust, a thousand or maybe a million twinkling lights that floated in the night. The figure stretched or perhaps just shifted and a million more lights were unfurled on its wings. If the priest had seen it, he would be sure to claim it was an angel. A spirit came down to oversee a special girl who had been left all alone in the world. It remains to be seen if a man of the cloth could even understand such things.

***

The sack had some weight to it. It jingled loud enough that Ella had to make certain that neither her stepmother or her daughters were around when she slipped money inside. They had an uncanny ability to discern coins and Ella felt justified in her paranoia. The thieving bitches would happily steal the last crust of bread let alone a small sack of gold.

Ella didn't see her customers at Hastings Manor anymore. She lied to her stepmother and appealed to her vanity. Ella said that with Lady Margery's new social standing, she wouldn't want anyone to suspect that there was anything tawdry happening at the manor. Her fancy friends would find it quite offensive if they knew that Ella was running a veritable brothel from the kitchen.

Lady Hastings was too lazy, fattened and spoiled now on Ella's earnings, to care either way. Ella no longer traded herself for a paltry loaf of bread or a lamb shank either. She charged more than the brothel girls. She then took the coins and purchased her own goods and services. Ella had even learned to haggle with the tradesmen and some would say that she had become a keen businesswoman.

Almost every morning began with a quick visit to the baker and today was no exception. Bartholomew was still and always a gentleman and had never balked at the price increase and gave her extra pennies as he could. "If I were a rich man, my dear, I'd shower you with gold," he whispered to her with longing in his eyes and a bulge in the center of his britches. "If only I had fewer mouths to feed," Bartholomew would look at her wistfully, "I'd run away with you, sweet girl."

The man still had no idea of the huge cock that lay in wait under Ella's skirts. He'd never made a grab for her or tried to see under her clothes. The baker had never even tried to touch her décolletage. Bartholomew had always been the perfect gentleman. Ella always smirked after she wiped her mouth and readied herself to leave. "You would do no such thing," but she would smile and touch his hand tenderly as she took the money and the bread that she kept for Francis and her other pets. "See you tomorrow," Ella would wave and sometimes even blow the man a kiss with her breath smelling of his cock and balls.

After two more brief appointments, Ella made her way to the inn close to the town square where the artist had a room. More than a painter, he was really just a con artist who had some artistic skill. When he'd come to panhandle at Hastings Manor, he'd introduced himself as Claude something or other, of some royal descent. He spoke with a foreign accent and told the sad story of how he had been brought low by hard times that had befallen his family. Ella had shooed him off after a drink from the well bucket but Margery's interest was piqued. After all, she was Dowager Hastings now and even if her money came from her stepdaughter's gifted tongue, her title came from her late husband who had been a great man. Great women required their portraits to be painted and hung in great rooms. Ella could only imagine what dreadful choices the woman would make given more coins.

Ella had run after Claude and tugged at his dirty sleeve. "Can you really paint?" she had asked him quietly so that Margery stayed out of her conversation.

He had blushed. Claude was a very young man, maybe only Ella's age. His blonde hair and blue eyes were a very attractive combination and if Ella weren't too busy being a whore now and she was just a girl, she might even care. He began to answer in the accented voice, "Yes, but of course." Perhaps it was just the exasperated look on Ella's face but he had dropped the façade altogether and whispered, "I can paint a little. If you were the subject, I'm sure I'd be inspired." He had kept trying to look Ella in the eye and their gaze would meet and he'd look away, embarrassed for her to see his longing.

"Then let's cut to the chase," Ella had put her hand up as if to stop his romantic notions right there. "My stepmother and her two pig daughters would like to think of themselves as fine ladies. They want to sit for their portraits to be painted. You must make them look better than they actually do," Ella had put her hands up, the man should know what he was getting into. "I can't pay you with gold," she wouldn't waste her precious getaway money on the daydreams of such ninnies. "But I can pay you in another way in which I'm sure you'll feel richly compensated." It had become almost her rote proposal, an offer that Ella had memorized and said almost word for word as she propositioned the people that she needed. So far, she'd never been turned down not once.

Claude had happily taken her up on her offer and Ella had come by his garret at the inn once every other day to see his progress with the paintings. Then she gave him a payment that left him spent and glowing.

She must be his only visitor because this morning, as almost all of her other visits, after a brief, quiet knock, the blonde boy opened the door and greeted her with open arms. He was naked, as always, clean smelling. Ella thought that he must always wash himself at the basin just for her. He was beautifully hard as well. His cock waved back up at her, it beckoned for Ella to bend down and give him some affection. "Good morning, my love," he greeted her in a seductive tone, as if she weren't the town whore and a guaranteed transaction. "Are you excited about the ball?" he asked as he took her by the hand. He slipped his other hand around her little waist and began a waltz with no music across the dirty floor of his attic room.

Ella hardly remembered how to move her feet and it took a few twirls before dancing felt familiar once again. "What ball?" she asked as she curtsied low. She'd almost lost all of her old manners. She would have to remember them once more in her new life somewhere far away where no one knew her as a prostitute.

Claude led her to his mattress, his soft fingers entwined with hers. It was easy to tell that he had led a life of ease. His skin was soft and his manner was gentle and affectionate like her mother had always told her a young man should be. "The prince is having a ball and inviting all of the single ladies in the land," Claude sounded rather excited. "He's looking for a wife and I think it's the perfect opportunity for me to find a rich, old widow who might take me in." Claude was always looking for the next great opportunity that might pay him more. "It's to be held at the palace on the evening of summer solstice," he was smiling, the conniving gleam in his eye already made Ella giggle. "The perfect evening for an older woman to fall madly in love with me and determine to keep me in the custom to which I would like to become accustomed." They both fell into a tumble on his straw mattress and laughed.

"Oh really?" Ella pretended to be offended. "And what would happen to me then?"

Claude lay on one elbow and looked her up and down, "My dear, you will forget all about me because once the Prince sees such rare beauty, he will lay claim to you fully and at once." Ella guessed that Claude must have had some schooling in his flimflam life in order to speak the way he did.

Ella shook her head no, "How on earth could I ever find time for a prince when I have all of you to take care of?" She laughed it off as her dainty hand reached for the dark pink flesh that tapped her thigh through her skirt. His dick made a little damp place where his excitement couldn't be contained. "Hmm?" she purred as her fingers explored Claude's cock. She dipped along his slit and let his salty fluid cover her fingertips. Her finger wandered a slow meander down the vein that strained at the front of his shaft. It caressed his small, tight ball sack. She outlined each testicle in a circular motion as her breath poured down his neck and made him whimper.

Ella's fingers weren't done and after she massaged his sack slowly, her dainty digits delved between his legs. They strolled along his perineum to his rear entry. Claude gasped and clutched at the mattress below. He had been the first customer to request her ministrations to his back door and it had opened up a whole new world for Ella. She was still surprised to discover that almost every single one of her customers was hungry to be penetrated. Once they were taken that way, they were ravenously hungry beasts for it. As her index finger paused and slowly traced a circle on his puckered skin, Claude begged in a hoarse voice that shook with his need, "Please, yes, give it to me."

Ella was hard in the front of her dress as her slick finger pushed inside his bud and opened him up with one deep thrust. Claude heaved and his cheeks shivered with his delight. "Yes, please darling," he begged in the whisper that spoke of dirty dreams and dark couplings. Ella reached for the tip of his thudding, dark pink dick and teased his slit with the tip of her tongue. Her tongue danced and delved along the underneath side of the ridge around the bottom of his head. The sounds and squeals and deep-throated barks that came from Claude were ecstasy that had no words. He fucked himself on first one of her small fingers and then two and finally, this morning, ever so grateful for three.

She could fit all of his cock in her mouth easily. With her lips around the base of his shaft, she held his manhood tightly with her slick mouth. Ella beckoned to him with the fingers. It was as if she were saying, come here little boy, come here and let me be your undoing. Claude prayed to her as if she were a goddess. "Anything, oh god, yes, anything for you, my love," he panted and it was all a lie in a moment of white hot passion but Ella didn't care.

Something she had learned on her knees was that even in the supplicant's position, a woman held all of the power that she would ever need.

She sucked him faster. Ella felt him twitch and pulse inside as her fingers hit that little place in his rectum that made the blood rush and sizzle and every nerve sing. Being even more full than usual had an explosive effect on the con artist and his body jolted and melted under her touch and her tongue. "Please, oh god, what are you doing to me?" Claude gasped and raised his hips up to plunge down even harder on her little fingers.

When he came, it was as if a hot, hidden underground stream. It had suddenly burst forth from the ground and shot up through the earth. The pressure cooked it for far too long. His climax came with howls and breathless cries and unintelligible grunts of words where he promised her all kinds of things if only she would fuck him like this always.

"Always, always, oh god, yes," he repeated it as he pushed his bottom and the last spurt squeezed from his softening dick. Ella swallowed the last drop. She kept her mouth there on the mushroom tip and licked around his slit for just a moment. She closed her mouth as she took in his taste and his scent. Ella thought once more that if there were anyone who might appreciate her tremendous cock, it would be Claude. It ached for attention at the moment, it pulsed and quivered for Claude's soft mouth to kiss her there. As a goddess, she could lie back on his dingy, little bed and demand that he pay tribute and worship.