Cinderella: An Erotic Fairy Tale Ch. 02

The story continued, and now adding a Fire Breathing Dragon, some Mercenaries and Blacksmiths, an Erotic Fountain, and another Member of Unusual Size.

*

Cindy woke the next morning to find herself curled up, still naked, on Prince Al's bare lap. He in turn was sitting on a plush and sticky royal throne. She looked into his sleeping face. He wore a dreamy smile, and in the daylight he was just as handsome as she had expected.

She felt the Prince's monster cock stir, high inside her belly. Seth was waking. Thanks to Shirley, her Fairy Godmother, she and the Prince were well suited for each other. She tried an experimental cunny squeeze, by way of saying good morning. The Prince blinked awake, and Seth responded immediately. It trembled like a puppy's tail wagging inside of her, and began to stretch and grow again. By concentrating, she found she could squeeze and knead it all along its considerable length, which it obviously liked. It was already working its way up into her chest, and she just had time to work the kinks out of her neck before it was sliding back up her throat.

'Here we go again', she thought, and smiled happily just before Seth burst back out from between her ruby lips. With her head now forced back, her gaze was drawn up to a sudden swirl of fairy dust sparkling brightly in the sunlight high over her head. She waved up at it. It seemed to shimmer in response.

"Thank you, Fairy Godmother," she said, although of course it came out as, "Mm-uu mm-m om-muu."

She twisted around on Seth to wink at her goggling Prince. Deciding it was time to talk, she skittered her feet back to plant them on the slightly crusty seat cushion. Taking hold of the length of iron-hard cock that protruded from her mouth, she straightened her legs and lifted her body up Seth's shaft. Gracious, but that felt good. Just as before, the rigid shaft supported her weight.

When she was fully standing, she found she could close her lips back around Seth's cockhead. That was better, but it was still high up in her throat, and so, putting her arms out to her sides like a tightrope walker, she carefully stepped up onto the arms of the throne. As she lifted herself, she felt the cock easing back into her chest. Then, looking carefully down between her pert breasts (having a rod up your insides enforces excellent posture), she flashed a radiant smile at the Prince and said, "Good morning!"

"Ahhh ... Good morning." The Prince, who perhaps thought the previous evening was all a dream, was now looking up at a black-curled, honey-coloured beauty. This frisky little thing was, thanks to magically gifted plumbing, somehow decorating the top two feet or so of his huge, cursed cock. Her legs were set wide, and she seemed almost to be levitating over him. She was so well braced internally by his pole that she had one hand free to twiddle one of her perky hard nipples, and the other to do the same to what showed of her clit (which was mostly mashed between her mound and his thick shaft). "Will you marry me?" he blurted out.

"Sure!" Her smile expanded to a joyous grin, and then she stepped off her perch on the throne to drop onto her lover's lap.

At some point during that long sweaty morning, Cindy confessed that she was not really Princess Sindri of Erewon. Prince Al told her not to worry – he explained that that was how most royal families got their start, although admittedly they usually had an army of followers to back their claim. He pointed out that Cindy had him, and when they were married, it wouldn't make any difference.

She also told him about her Fairy Godmother, who of course must be invited to the wedding. Even as they fucked, Cindy wondered what kind of wedding dress to wear, and whether the Fairy would make it for her.

All the while, they were left strictly alone in the throne room, on orders from the King - in the interest of fostering any chance for success in his son's amours. A guard had been posted at the door, so no one was strictly sure what was going on in there – excepting the guard himself, who took a quick peek and then resolved never again to drink before going on duty.

It wasn't until early afternoon that the hungry and dishevelled pair emerged. Cindy's sexy gown had disappeared at the last stroke of midnight, so she was wearing the Prince's brocade jacket. Now buttonless and stained, it just managed to cover her pretty ass. His silk shirt was open, being likewise free of buttons, and Cindy kept sneaking glances of his manly chest. It was like a vision out of one of those illuminated romance manuscripts she liked to read (and which the monk scribes found both profitable and enjoyable to produce). The palace staff performed the tricky manoeuvre of acknowledging their presence politely, while at the same time affecting not to notice them.

The news of the engagement thrilled the King and Queen, who were beginning to seriously worry about marrying off their son – hence the previous night's Costume Ball. As a child, Prince Al had been betrothed to his cousin, Princess Alfina of Anthrax. There was a lot of this sort of inbreeding among royalty in those days. (It is rumoured that the greatest banjo player the world has ever known was a Hapsburg prince, who was quietly sent to live in a marsh in Rumania.) Fortunately for the royal bloodlines, the women were as randy as the men, although generally more discrete. King Charming was unaware that he owed his red hair to a fling his mother had had with the town's blacksmith – a Scottish giant who moved south for his health around the time of the future king's birth. As for Princess Alfina, news of Al's run in with the witch and subsequent affliction had inspired the poor thing to join a nunnery.

As an engagement gift, the King had Cindy's wicked stepsisters and stepmother arrested and sent in chains to a house of correction. Due to a clerical error (assisted by Shirley), the trio were sent to a newly opened establishment called Glenna's House of Discipline. The results were satisfactory for all concerned. The mother and her two ugly daughters became Glenna's biggest draw. A fair-minded Madame, Glenna ensured they shared in the profits. So the three were rehabilitated, after a fashion, becoming consummate professionals who re-invested all their income into their growing collection of leatherwear, and the whips, fetters and branding irons of their new trade.

Cindy and her Prince spent the days before their wedding getting to know one another further, which included a great deal of time in his apartments and in the palace's rooftop pleasure garden (another regal perk) exploring positions. He would plunge his cock inside her, in and out, deeper and deeper and deeper, as they wrestled about, sometimes her on top and sometimes him, until she would cry out her delight. Life was rather good.

One of her favourites (for example) was essentially a soixante-neuf. It was necessary that the Prince start out fairly soft – ice was sometimes called for. She then sat upright on his face and, while he nuzzled her nethers, she licked the tip of his prodigious pecker. After this warm up, she then stretched her lips over it and proceeded to perform an exceedingly deep throat on him. Eventually, Seth would work his intrepid way all the way through Cindy's magically enhanced cunt until Al found himself slurping on more than just Cindy.

At this point, he would usually stiffen up completely, lifting Cindy upside down, her blood rushing to her head. She'd slide right down until her nose was against his balls, and then she'd begin to perform press-ups with her hands. He would hold her hips to help, and between them they'd keep up the slithery friction. As the orgasms took her, she'd alternately wave her legs, flexing her pretty toes, and then hang limp while she recovered her strength. And when he came, well, she found those final surges of his transiting sperm to be just as exciting coming as going.

In this way (and in ways similar), they spent an interesting and inventive several weeks. But, before their marriage could take place, a crisis came along. A dragon moved into an abandoned castle in the middle of the Wildwood. The townspeople were all in an uproar about the monster they said preyed on virgins (although had the creature been so fussy as that, he would have had to mostly do without). A mob had even ransacked the Department of Public Works and Recreation, whose director had promised to pull down the old castle some years back.

And then the dragon had struck again, inside the very castle walls. Now the townsfolk were gathered in the square in front of the palace gates, focusing their frustration on Cindy's future father-in-law. She and the Prince sat in the palace rec room, drinking some beers by the ping-pong table and watching the King brood.

King Charming XXII (known as Charming the Fairly Good) was gazing gloomily out the window at the crowd – country peasants with pitchforks, shopkeepers, and even that huge African blacksmith he knew the Queen liked to roger whenever she got the chance. Charming knew they all blamed him. He felt this to be somewhat unfair, since he had followed the book to the letter. He had been reasonably prompt in ordering out his best mercenaries – thirty crack tactical assault knights - but then contact had been lost. They had failed, and today the monster had stolen and presumably eaten the Bishop's favourite mistress, Trixie. The chamberlain's daughter, she was a sweet little blonde, always up for a romp.

Hearing them go at it, it had always amazed the King that she never got pregnant. In his own youth, he had knocked up half the staff, and had ended up paying all his allowance on pregnancy leave bonuses. He smiled. It was a long tradition. The tax rolls and the troop lists included a good number of honest, bastard citizens named Mr. Prince and Mr. King. (Of course, here as in most places, the most common name was Smith – think about it.)

King Charming gave his head a shake, chasing away the happy reveries and returning to his grim worries. It was too late for Trixie - she was now dragon food. At any rate, the virgin theory about the diet of dragons could be put to bed, so to speak. But now his son was riding into terrible danger, for the next morning he would lead the entire army out to the Wildwood, to lay siege to the Dragon.

Prince Al was keen to go. He was in a rage – Trixie had been a good friend. After the witch had cursed him, she had been the only girl (before Cindy) who hadn't run away from the sight of his fearsome wang. True, she hadn't let him put it in her, either, but she had expressed both sympathy and appreciation, and had sometimes even fondled it for him.

Cindy, for her part, had complete confidence in her valiant prince. The morning of the expedition to the Wildwood, she sent her hero off (slightly late) with a bone-rattling quickie. Once the army had marched away, flags flying, to wreak vengeance on the monster, she slipped up to the palace's empty rooftop garden for a skinny dip in her favourite fountain, the one that sent a shower of water straight up from the mouth of a naked river maiden. She could relate.

The fountain was great fun. It had a lovely deep pool, plus there were climbable stone dolphins and frogs and serpents. It also was equipped with complicated inner workings that send random spurts of water at passers by – royals enjoy low humour as much as anyone. And, sitting at the feet of the busty marble maiden that stood spouting at the centre, was an anatomically correct faun. Not a Bambi, but one of those randy man-goat fellows, who in those days could still sometimes be glimpsed chasing nymphs across forest glades.

Cindy splashed about, and then climbed up to stand astride the faun's lap. She rubbed her itching privates against the stone knob, just as she once had done with her bedpost. The difference was that now she could ease herself over and, with just a wriggle and a twist, down onto the foot-and-a-half tall phallus. In Prince Al's temporary absence, she was then able to satisfy her ever-simmering lusts by squirming on the cool marble shaft inside her. Sitting there, dibbling her toes in the warm water, she also got an occasional extra thrill when it was her stone lover's turn to spurt his surprise burst of water.

After a bracing swim and a fuck 'n' flush, she danced naked through the garden among the shrubs and flowers, drying herself in the warm breeze. She was as happy as she could remember - until she swirled around a hedge and abruptly found herself staring at a ten-foot dragon's cock.

That is to say, the dragon was ten foot tall. And if you do not think this particularly impressive, I should add that he was twenty feet long, nose to tail, and twenty feet across from wingtip to leathery wingtip. Think flying, fire breathing Velociraptor. Except, perhaps a bit more slyly mannish around the eyes, and with more or less human (if scaly) arms and hands. Oh, and an enormous, emerald green cock.

Cindy had never seen the apparatus of a lizard, but this particular one looked a lot like Prince Al's. It was at least as big as his, and similar in shape, if not in colour. Of course it also lacked Al's curly bush, and up close she could see that, like the rest of the dragon, it was covered with scales - tiny ones that made it look just like the fat snakes she'd played with in her garden as a girl (don't ask). It stood in all its green glory straight up in front of its owner, swaying in way that was somewhat mesmerizing. She found herself staring at it, in spite of the wings and tail and pointy bits that should have had an equal claim for her attention.

The dragon took a step towards Cindy, and then another. She stepped back as he advanced. He hoped he hadn't accidentally stumbled on some foolish virgin. She may not be a lady dragon – he hadn't the luck to find one of those in far too many years – but for a human, she definitely had what he was looking for - young, with wide hips.

As Cindy retreated, she kept her eyes on the thing's cock, and so failed to see him reach forward and ... chuck her chin.

"Hey!" Cindy was surprised not so much by his touch as by how warm it had been.

"What?" The dragon snatched his hand back. That was not the reaction he was used to.

"Only – what do you think you're up to?" She looked down meaningfully at his cock.

"I'm terribly sorry, but I can't hide my feelings," said the dragon. He used his silkiest voice, trying to regain the upper hand. This was not playing out in the usual way. Usually there was a lot of screaming at this point. Of course, he always had his way in the end (dragons, as you know, have silver-tongued voices that can hypnotize the unwary), but he was clearly off his form. Usually, after the screaming bit came rather boring conversations along the lines of: 'Now you will spread your nubile thighs,' - 'Yes - now I will spread my nubile thighs.'

Cindy didn't realize that she wasn't playing by the dragon's rules, but she was aware that she was in big trouble. Even so, that green cock looked terribly interesting – sort of a challenge to her abilities. And she knew that she had a Ferry Godmother looking after her.

Unfortunately for her, Shirley was at that very moment down at the Boar's Little Head tavern and very definitely off-duty. To be precise, the Fairy was happily in the middle of a most satisfactory rogering, lying under Sir John Fullstaff's hefty bulk in the curtained off space which Mistress Speedy provided her regulars.

The dragon started over. "Now you will spread ..." He trailed off. The way she was squinting at him, he somehow knew she wouldn't. At least, not just like that, although he could sense that she was interested. "I'm Frank," he said. A simple introduction seemed in order – elaborate pick-up lines weren't really in his field of experience.

"Cindy. Princess Cindy," she said, prematurely promoting herself again. She offered him her hand, as though she was addressing a formal guest at a state ball, rather than a randy dragon, whilst standing fetchingly nude in the morning sun, decorated with just a few lingering beads of water from her swim, which sparkled like gems on the curve of her luscious breasts and caressed the inner softness of her lithe legs ...

The dragon, who felt he was definitely loosing focus, politely shook her hand while he tried to think of something intelligent to say. "I can fly, you know," he ventured, an unnecessary observation considering their rooftop location and his huge leathery wings, which he flexed for emphasis.

"That's nice," she agreed, her eyes again on his green equipment. The slit of his peggo was wide and went across rather than up and down. It looked distinctly like a mouth -she half expected to see a forked tongue flicker out. She absently licked a finger, and felt a small trickle of her pussy juices slide down the inside of her left thigh.

This was slightly embarrassing. She would really, really like to sample what he was so prominently offering, but it seemed somehow wrong to fuck a monster who had eaten her new friend, and was at that very moment being hunted by her fiancé – fuck it on the roof of their home, no less.

On the other hand, she would be helping the cause – she could sound out the creature's weaknesses, or perhaps even persuade him to change his ways. It was, she decided, her civic duty to fuck him. She felt that she had better get started before her new selfless resolve failed her.

"So, Frankie, maybe we should go someplace more private." She caressed one of her lovely breasts to clarify her intent, in the remote case that this would be necessary.

The dragon felt that things were somehow coming back on track. She may not be in the thrall of his voice, but she was obviously willing. Since there was clearly nowhere in the city more private than where they were at that very moment, he reached out and carefully lifted Cindy up until her pussy was just touching the top of his stiff green cock.

Usually this phase was only reached after he and his prey had reached his lair, and the maiden was hoarse from yelling. He would press the dome of his knob-end against her soft labial folds, sliding and rubbing it as he was doing now, until he – and occasionally she – gained some satisfaction. His come would then spurt, with remarkable pressure, past the pussy lips of his new conquest. Thus it was with some amazement that he felt Cindy's seemingly tight cunnie somehow stretch and engulf his entire cockhead.

Cindy wasn't aware of the dragon's long search for fulfillment, but she recognized the look on his face as gravity slowly drew her down onto the beast's pole. It was the same stunned expression that had come over the Prince. After she had taken the first green foot or so, she had to twist and wriggle her bottom to continue her slide. Her elastic pussy lips were by then stretched so wide that his cock's scaly surface was tickling her thighs. Still she dropped, as it's head eased pleasantly up into her chest. She felt the heat of it inside her, too. It was definitely not like a garden snake in that respect (no, really – don't ask).

She wondered - if the Prince's cock was now named Seth, what should she call this one? Somehow she felt she should be properly introduced. She caught hold of his shoulders to stop her plunge, and asked, "Does it have a name?" Her voice was almost a whisper – it was becoming hard, with all that throbbing meat up inside her, to take deep breaths.

"What?" He must have heard the words, but apparently he was so preoccupied that their meaning had escaped him.

"Your thingy – what do you call it?"

As a matter of fact, he did have a name for it. "Eric," he said hesitantly.

She could tell this was not something he let get around. "Eric," she repeated. "Pleased to meet you both." She let go of his shoulders and immediately dropped another half foot or so - very nice. Erik was at the base of her throat now. It was time to tip her head back and straighten her neck. She smiled and thought of the erotic fountain behind her. Another minute and the thing was sliding up her throat and filling her mouth. She opened wide at its insistent pressure and watched in delight as Eric emerged to tower above her.