Desert Fairy Tales

After some moments had passed, Baubella rose and crossed to her armoire. Opening the door, she retrieved a decanter and four goblets. She poured out equal measures of its contents, kept one goblet for herself, and distributed the others to her sisters and the blond boy. "This potion will enhance your passion and increase your endurance," she said. They drank rapidly and drained their goblets. Immediately, the boy's penis swelled and lengthened. Standing quickly, he seized Baubella, pressed his lips to hers, and kissed her passionately. Then he lifted her and threw her onto the bed. Breathlessly she opened her legs and allowed him to plunge his penis inside her. Immediately, he began to thrust violently. Baubella screamed with pleasure.

At the sight of their sister being ravished, Ursula and Plionarcta locked lips and fell upon each other. Ursula pivoted on top of her sister and lowered her pubis onto her face. Plionarcta obliged by licking her clitoris while Ursula reciprocated.

When Baubella reached a climax, Ursula disengaged from Plionarcta, pulled the blond boy off her sister, and threw him down upon his back on the mattress. She grasped his throbbing penis, guided it into her vagina, and rocked her hips forward and backward. The blond boy reached up and caressed her breasts. Then he wrapped his arms around her back, lifted himself, sealed his lips over her left nipple, and sucked passionately. Ursula closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure. Grasping his head, she pulled it from her left breast and pushed it onto her right. The boy complied and sucked her nipple.

Ursula's body shook violently as a massive orgasm overwhelmed her. Lifting herself off the blond boy's groin, she turned, grasped Plionarcta by the back of her head, and pushed her mouth against his penis. Plionarcta complied and fellated him vigorously. Then the blond boy pushed her back onto the mattress, mounted her, and ravished her.

For the remainder of the night, he made love to each of them in turn repeatedly. Each time, his penis spouted an immense load of honey, which they lapped up eagerly and swallowed. As the sun crested the mountains, he experienced a massive orgasm, and, bellowing loudly, spurted half way across the room. Then he collapsed in exhaustion and relief. The sisters lay in a circle around him and covered his body with kisses. Then, happily entwined in each other's arms, they all drifted off to sleep.

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They awakened to a deafening crash that shook the walls and floor. They sat up and listened carefully. A second crash shook the cave. Someone was attempting to batter down the marble door. Dimly, they heard the sound of horses, weapons, and armor coming from behind the portal.

One by one, the bear women turned and kissed the blond boy passionately. Still wearing their masks, they sprang from the bed, ran to their armoires, took out their warrior clothes, and put them on. Then they pulled their gauntlets from the wall, and fastened them to their wrists. Baubella snatched up her spear, and Ursula and Plionarcta strapped their scabbards onto their backs and drew their swords. Baubella turned to the blond boy and kissed him again one last time. Then they raced down the staircase just in time to see the marble door crack and collapse.

The great room rapidly filled with dust and smoke. Through the haze, a turbaned soldier raced into the cave carrying a torch and threw it into the bookcase. With one swipe of her bear claws, Ursula beheaded him. Flames sprang from the bookcase and spread to the tapestries. The sisters screamed in rage and bellowed their war cry.

Armed men rushed into the cave. The women formed a chevron and began to mow them down. Blood spattered everywhere. The cave reverberated with the screams of the dying. The women growled like bears as they struck down one soldier after another. Amid the smoke, dust, and noise, despite the shouts of their commanders, the soldiers were unable to coordinate an effective assault. But the bear women knew their home ground and did not need to see clearly in order to defend themselves. Baubella turned and watched as the flames spread throughout the cave, consuming all of their treasured possessions. She began to weep. Her grief bolstered her rage. With renewed force, she sprang upon the invaders and killed ruthlessly and efficiently.

Suddenly, Plionarcta collapsed, pierced through the heart by a spear. Ursula screamed and beheaded the man who had wielded it. Then she became berserk. She abandoned her defensive position with her sister and charged out into the daylight.

After a few moments of shock, the blond boy had sprung into action. As he donned his clothing and withdrew his sword from under the mattress, his mind was reeling. Why had the bear women kissed him and then gone off alone to face the invaders? Hadn't they been plotting to kill him in his sleep? And what was this powerful feeling that was suffusing his body with rage, not against the women, but against their attackers? The blond boy had never been in love before, but he concluded that this must be what it feels like. And then it struck him: the bear women had sprung upon the enemy, not to defend their home, but to defend him.

He ran down the stairs and searched through the haze until he saw Baubella. She was bleeding from many wounds. Surrounded by four soldiers, she was standing her ground and viciously swinging her spear. The blond boy ran and took up a position behind her. Baubella felt the warmth of his body and knew instantly that it was he. Back to back they fought the enemy. The boy began to roar with rage. His sword sang in the wind and sprayed blood in all directions as it cut through one man after another. An arrow pierced his shoulder. He broke off the feathered end, reached behind him, and pulled out the shaft. Blood trickled down his back, but he did not feel it. He struck down another soldier and then another.

Then little by little, the screams of the attackers diminished. Baubella dispatched one more man, and then, silence. Still standing back to back, they pivoted first one way, then the other, peering through the dust, their chests heaving, their bodies drenched in blood and perspiration, but nothing moved. Eventually, the dust settled. All around them, the contents of the cave were crackling and collapsing. The flames threw an orange light upon the scene, and they saw the cave entrance gleaming in the sunlight. Cautiously, they made their way through the broken portal.

The remaining soldiers had retreated and were now beating a path down the mountain. Baubella gasped, "Temple guards. They were temple guards from the monotheist sect. The high priest must have sent spies to find us."

Then she dropped her spear and cried, "Oh, no! No, no, no!"

Lying by the thicket from which the sisters had emerged the day before, surrounded by dead warriors, was Ursula's blood drenched body. Baubella crossed the open space in front of the cave and sank down onto the moss beside her sister. Cradling Ursula's head in her lap, she wept inconsolably. The blond boy walked across the clearing, kneeled beside her, and wrapped her in his arms.

∫∫∫∫∫

So it was that Grandfather first met Grandmother. After binding their wounds and burying Ursula and Plionarcta, they began to walk down the mountain. In a clearing at the foot of the hills, peacefully grazing, was the war horse that had conveyed him to the forest witch. Grandfather hoisted Grandmother into the saddle, then jumped up and sat behind her. In the late afternoon, they camped by a stream. They consumed food that his servants had packed in his saddlebag, made love, and discovered that his semen was no longer made of honey.

Seven days later, they appeared at the gate of the family compound. His parents and siblings ran across the cobblestones and embraced them. Then they took them inside, tended their wounds, and gave them fresh clothing. It was only then that Grandfather, looking in a mirror, realized that his hair had turned gray. And so it remained for the rest of his life.

The White King and the Seven Succubi

In a land to the north that borders the inland sea, legend tells of a powerful man, long ago, who was known as the White King. He was brutal and cruel; from time to time, he and his army would invade a neighboring kingdom and torture, mutilate, and kill all of the men. Increasingly, these principalities were failing because the women, alone, were unable to eke out an existence. One by one, their children were dying, and in the burned out woodlands, all of the birds were perishing, too. In desperation, the birds appealed to the gods, and far to the south, in the heavens that protect al-Khajirah, Mother Bat heard them.

Mother Bat is the patroness of all living things that fly. She has exquisite sexual skills and often is summoned by Father Crocodile to his palace, where she joins him in bed in order to give him oral pleasure. This is an important service, for only by ejaculating forcefully can Father Crocodile seed the earth with new creatures and maintain the balance of life; and only Mother Bat, Mother Panther, and Mother Cobra are able to induce in him the extremes of passion that are needed.

One evening, after they had made love, Mother Bat kneeled and asked him to put a stop to the reign of terror in the north. Father Crocodile gave her special powers and dispatched her to the domain of the White King. After a long flight, she descended and commanded the trees to build her a suitable palace from which she would execute her plans. The trees bent and reconfigured themselves until they had formed a magnificent castle that was hidden from view by the clouds that adorned their tops.

One day, after a difficult pregnancy, the eldest daughter of the White King's highest ranking wife died giving birth to seven baby girls. Their difficult passage through their mother's birth canal deprived them of oxygen, and consequently, when they emerged, their skin was blue. The infants were frail and required constant care, which the women of the king's harīm happily provided. But the heartless king decreed that, upon their twentieth birthday, they would be required to pleasure him, and if they failed to sate his enormous sexual appetite, they would be beheaded.

Upon hearing of this outrage, the following night, Mother Bat swooped down upon the White King's castle and flew in through the window of the nursery. Carefully, she gathered up the babies, pressed them against her breasts for warmth, and conveyed them to her stronghold, where she commanded the trees to watch over them. Then she returned to the king's palace and flew into his bedroom. He awakened with a start, sprang out of bed, and reached for his sword; but Mother Bat made it disappear. Then she told him that, because of his many sins, he would be cast out into the wilderness, there to live out his days in poverty, and eventually undergo a long, disfiguring illness and a painful death.

When the king heard this, for the first time in his life, he felt fear. He fell to the floor and entreated her to allow him to redeem himself. Mother Bat thought for a moment. Then she decreed that during his long exile, she would test him three times. If on each occasion he conducted himself ethically and did good instead of evil, she would reward him, and, upon his passing the last test, would remove the curse.

Many years passed. The White King tried to do good; but the people were so afraid of him that they ran whenever he appeared. He eked out a meager existence in a mountain cave, gathering what nuts and roots he could. The weather was bitterly cold, and although he foraged daily for firewood, the flames barely kept him warm. Gradually, he began to lose hope. He aged rapidly and eventually was reduced to begging scraps from passing travelers.

One winter morning, he heard a scream. Grasping his staff, he ran down the mountain and onto the roadway. Three men were savagely beating a frail old woman. The king fell upon the attackers and knocked them unconscious. Then he gathered the old woman in his arms and conveyed her to his cave. He lit a fire, dressed her wounds, and by cradling her head, induced her to drink hot tea. Eventually, she stopped shivering.

The cave began to change, and after a few moments, was transformed into a tall, sumptuously decorated chamber that was bathed in a soft light and suffused with the smell of incense. Despite a large window that was open to the night air, the room was comfortably warm due to a fire that was burning in a marble fireplace. At the center of the chamber stood a large canopy bed whose legs, posts, and rails were intricately carved in ebony, and whose bedclothes and draperies were made of the finest silks.

The old woman arose and faced him. A pair of large black wings grew out of her shoulders and began to flap slowly and powerfully. As she lifted off the carpet and hovered in the air, her body metamorphosed into that of a voluptuous blue skinned woman. Her white hair turned green and became long, thick, and lustrous. Her rags transformed into a black boudoir ensemble that consisted of soft sandals, long stockings, a scant loincloth, and long satin gloves. From an opening in the back of her loincloth, a tail emerged, grew in length, and swelled out at the tip into a large diamond shape that twitched from side to side, like the tail tip of a hungry cat who is about to pounce. She smiled sensually.

"My name is Ariadne," said the succubus. "I am a daughter of the goddess, Mother Bat. When I passed through puberty, she endowed me with wings and taught me to fly. In order to maintain the strength of my flight muscles, I must consume a large amount of semen nightly. So I am compelled to fly far and wide in search of worthy men. You have passed her first test, and I am to reward you with one night of sexual bliss."

Gesturing with her hands, the succubus raised the White King into the air and removed his clothing. Then she propelled him backward between the bedposts and placed him supine upon the sheets. She floated over the bed, rotating until she hung prone in the air above him, and descended onto the mattress, planting her knees on either side of his head. Puckering her lips, she kissed his penis, which responded by swelling and hardening. She slid her palms down his abdomen, pressed her thumbs against the base of his shaft, and with her fingertips, caressed the undersides of his testicles. Then she opened her mouth wide, closed it around his glans, and proceeded to fellate him.

The White King opened his mouth wide in amazement. Never had the women of his harīm given him such pleasure. Although they had continually professed to love him, he had sensed their insincerity. Often, as he coupled with them, he had wondered idly what real love might be like. Now he realized that he had never been loved; and despite his hardened heart, he was unable to suppress a feeling of grief.

But the succubus was able to see inside him, and when she perceived his sadness, she immediately ceased fellating him. Rising into the air, she turned and regarded him curiously.

The succubus was perplexed and intrigued. Her brow wrinkled in thought for some time. Then a look of calm determination suffused her face. She lowered herself onto the carpet and stood a short distance from the side of the bed, facing him. Her wings and tail withdrew into her body. Methodically, she stepped out of her clothing, climbed into bed, and lowered herself onto him. The White King felt the warmth of her body, as she pressed her breasts, abdomen, and hips against him. She slid her arms under his back, embraced him, and kissed him passionately.

Expertly, the succubus worked her way down his body. She planted her lips upon his chest, kissed it, and then made lazy circles with her tongue. She did so again a second and third time and slid her mouth down onto his abdomen. She paused to press the tip of her tongue into his navel before continuing down his pubis. Then she grasped his hand and sucked his fingers one by one.

His breath was coming hard; she could feel his diaphragm and intercostal muscles surging in and out beneath her. She disengaged from him and crouched down over his pubis. Reaching beneath her, she wrapped one hand around his erection, and, with the other, spread open her labia. Then she lowered herself onto his penis and allowed him to push it into her as far as it would go. The succubus raised her face, closed her eyes, cupped her hands over her breasts, and rolled her nipples between her fingers. She flexed and relaxed her thigh muscles repeatedly, each time raising, then lowering her body, while squeezing her sphincter muscles. The king commenced to thrust in time with her motions. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He opened his mouth wide and gasped for air. Abruptly, his body began to shudder. Quickly, the succubus separated from him and lay down between his legs. She closed her lips around his glans, wrapped both hands around his shaft, and masturbated him vigorously. An immense load of semen issued from the tip of his penis. Each time he spurted, she moaned with pleasure and swallowed.

Throughout the night, they made love repeatedly. Then, when the sun's first rays brushed the windowsill, the succubus flew out the window and disappeared into the morning mist. Gradually, the sumptuous chamber melted away until, at last, he found himself, once again, alone on the dirt floor of his cave.

∫∫∫∫∫

Whenever the White King gathered firewood, if he came across a solid piece of oak or cedar, he put it aside. Eventually, he learned to carve and soon was transforming the choice pieces that he had saved into wondrous animal figurines, which he was able to trade for food in the local marketplace.

One spring afternoon, after a heavy rainfall, he was walking along the road that led into town when he came upon a traveling merchant. His wagon had become stuck in the mud, and his three horses had exhausted themselves attempting to pull it free. He had dismounted and was beating them with an iron prod which cut painful gouges in their flesh. The beasts were streaked with blood and screaming in agony, but because their feet had become mired in the mud, they couldn't fight back or escape.

Recognizing that his truce with the local people was fragile, the king had been careful to stay out of their affairs. Now, he averted his eyes and passed by the unfortunate horses and their brutal master. But their plaintive screams moved him.

During the days of his ascendency, he had killed and maimed many men; but cruelty to his horses had been unthinkable; for he greatly valued their courage and loyalty in battle.

Wary of incurring Mother Bat's wrath again, he struggled to suppress his growing rage, and, as he turned back, resolved to be diplomatic.

"Excuse me, sir," he said. "Perhaps I can be of help."

"Mind your own business, old man," shouted the merchant. Cursing his horses, he redoubled the beatings.

The king took a step closer. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but in my time, I have cared for many horses. Perhaps if you allow me to handle them, your wagon can be freed."

But the merchant spun and struck at the king with the metal prod. Instinctively, he parried with his walking staff, but this only infuriated his attacker. Swiftly drawing his knife, he slashed the king across the chest. The White King struck him with his staff and rendered him unconscious. Then he turned toward the frantic horses and approached them.

"Ho, big brothers. Ho," he said in a calming voice. The horses lunged a little less violently. "Let me see your wounds." The animals calmed. They were still breathing hard, but they allowed him to come a little closer. One by one, he stroked their backs and patted their sides while inspecting their injuries. He walked to a nearby stream, cupped his palms together under the surface, ferried the water back to one of the horses, and encouraged it to drink. He did the same for the other two, continually murmuring reassuring words. Then he washed their wounds, unhitched them, and attempted to lead them out of the mud.