Snow White

"Yes, Snow White," the queen replied. "I have taken good care of you, have I not? I have provided you with the best tutors, and clothed you in the finest clothes, and fed you the best food, all your life, have I not?"

"Oh yes, majesty. I have always been grateful."

The queen's eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps not grateful enough. I have had news that you have had a recent encounter. An encounter . . . with a man. Am I correct?"

Snow White hesitated. She had always been honest with the queen, her stepmother. She had been grateful for all that she had provided her. Yet, now, she hesitated. She had a sense, vague but undeniable, that the queen might disapprove of her answer. But Snow White nonetheless felt compelled to tell the truth. She felt no guilt or shame about what had happened with the prince the previous day. She had no familiarity with guilt or shame.

"Yes, your majesty," she said. "I did."

The queen's eyes narrowed further, and her lips thinned and quivered.

"Please tell me what happened."

"Yes, your majesty," Snow White responded. "I was in the garden yesterday, and I felt a strange feeling between my legs, and I touched myself there. The prince was on the wall, and he saw me. Then he approached me, and he . . . he fucked me! Your majesty, it felt so good. I have never felt anything like it before. I want to fuck again!"

Nobody had ever told Snow White to feel guilt or shame about fucking--indeed, nobody had told her about fucking at all--so she felt no shame. But even Snow White was not wholly naïve. As the words left her lips, she noticed the queen's entire face tighten and darken. It was obvious even to Snow White that the queen was displeased. She said nothing at first.

"Are you telling me, Snow White, that you . . . had sex with the prince?"

Snow White was puzzled.

"Had sex? If that's the same as fucking, then yes, I did. He put his staff inside my flower, and he pushed it in and out. It felt wonderful, your majesty."

Snow White observed that the queen's hands were tightly balled into clenched fists at her side, and the queen seemed to be shaking. She had never seen her like that.

"I see," said the queen. "Did the Prince . . . did he climax . . . inside you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, your majesty. He didn't fuck me for long. Master Rancibal called out to me while we were fucking, and I had to stop. But I hope I can fuck again soon. May I?"

"No, Snow White, you may not. Princesses do not act that way!"

"Oh," said Snow White. "I didn't know that. Why not? It is so enjoyable to be fucked."

"Because, Snow White, I say so. That is why. Go back to your room, now, and stay there."

Snow White curtsied and left the queen's chambers. Grenda escorted back to her own room. As she left the queen, she felt the twinge of an odd feeling she had never felt before: guilt.

* * * *

The queen closed the door behind Snow White. When she was sure Snow White was far enough away that she would not hear her, she screamed with rage as loud as she could and threw a vase against the opposite wall, shattering it into pieces.

"Curse that slut!" she cried. "How dare she let herself be fucked by a man! How can she be better at it than I am? This cannot be right!"

She returned to her mirror.

"Magic mirror, this can't be right.

I must be a better fuck than Snow White."

"You're not, my Queen, I'm sad to say.

Snow White, not you, is the better lay."

"Arghhh!" she screamed again, breaking another vase. She wanted to shatter the mirror, but she couldn't do that. She needed it for too many things.

It could not be borne.

The queen always had despised Snow White. She knew that in the brief opportunities Snow White had been allowed to leave the palace and venture out among the people she had won their hearts. She knew, deep down, that Snow White was more beloved than she, the queen.

That made her a threat.

But until recently, Snow White had been just a child, and could be contained hidden behind palace walls, under the watchful eyes of the queen's spies.

Now, though naïve, she was a grown woman. And she was fucking! That damnable little tramp! And she had fucked the prince! That explained his lack of interest in her, the queen, during their visit. He was still thinking his romp with the hussy princess. They would probably conspire to fuck again as soon as possible.

It could not be tolerated.

It WOULD not be tolerated.

The queen had to do something. Fast. The queen understood the sex drive better than anyone. She knew its power. Snow White had felt it, too, and if the mirror was right, it could not be contained. Snow White would be fucking again, right under her nose. She would seduce men and win them over.

The queen had to do something about it.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She was getting older. But she was still beautiful. She was powerful. She would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. She never had.

The mask of fury on her face gave way to a cold, evil smile.

* * * *

Later that evening, back in her chambers, Snow White was getting ready for bed. A few candles lit the room and waited to be blown out. Her ladies in waiting had left her, having dressed her in her favorite pink, gauzy night dress. She wore matching pink slippers.

She wondered at the queen's reaction to the news that Snow White had fucked-- "had sex," the queen put it. Snow White puzzled and mused over the queen's reaction. Obviously, she had been displeased. Snow White had never seen the queen so displeased. The queen, it was true, had never been as openly kind and charming to Snow White as others had; even Snow White, with all her naivete, knew that. But she had never been openly angry. It seemed to Snow White that the queen rarely showed any emotion to her, and that sometimes caused Snow White regret, because the queen was her stepmother, and both her mother and father had died long ago. The queen was her only family member.

But Snow White could not think too long or hard about the queen, for feelings about Prince Geoffrey stirred inside her. She thought of him, tall and strong, with his long, hard staff, and the way it pushed inside her, over and over again. She remembered the sound of it as it slapped against her own body. She remembered how wet the inside of her flower had become, and how the wetness lingered long after.

The thought of it caused a tingle to grow between her legs.

She sat at the edge of the bed and pulled up her night dress until it was bunched at her waist. She spread her legs, and her flower was on display. She faced a mirror, and she could see it in the mirror, too.

She had never paid much attention to her flower before, never given it much thought. But now it was all she could think about. She wanted to feel Prince Geoffrey's big staff inside her. She wanted that very badly.

Snow White had never known disappointment. She had been tended to and cared for and pampered and given all the creature comforts. When she wanted candy, she was given candy.

But now she wanted something else, something new, and she didn't know how to get it. She didn't know where the prince was. And the queen had told her she was not to fuck! She didn't understand. But the Queen must be obeyed.

Her eyes strayed to a high, skinny table that stood to the side of the mirror. Her long-handled hairbrush lay on top of it.

Perhaps . . .

Snow White jumped off the bed, and she paused before tiptoeing to the table. She picked up the brush.

Perhaps . . .

She tip-toed back to the bed. She pulled up her night dress, once again exposing the bloom of her flower. It DID look like a flower to Snow White, its petals pink and delicate in the flickering candlelight. They lay open, and Snow White saw that the skin inside her was damp and glistening.

The hairbrush had a long, wooden handle, sanded smooth and richly lacquered. The width seemed right.

She held it by the brush end.

The queen had said it was wrong for her to fuck.

But this wouldn't really be fucking, would it?

Snow White touched the tip to her flower, between the petals.

Her body shivered.

She pulled it away and touched it again, and her body shivered once more.

How delicious! She marveled that she had never felt these sensations before.

She ran the smooth tip of the brush up and down the length of her flower. It was an interesting flower, with only two delicate lips. She used her other hand to open it more. A dark channel disappeared inside her. That was where the prince's staff had gone. She remembered how long it had been and was amazed that her flower channel could accommodate so much of it. She had much to learn.

She pulled the skin back a little, and a little pale pink bead emerged from between the hood of skin that normally covered it. The tingle seemed to come mostly from there, so Snow White touched the brush handle to the little bead.

Her whole body spasmed.

Oh my! What a feeling. What a wonderful, sensational feeling. It was like tasting a flavor of candy she had never tasted before--the most delicious candy imaginable.

There was something about that little pink bead, as though it was a magical, wonderful button. It had only to be pushed slightly. She touched the tip of the brush handle to it again, and the sensation recurred, sending pleasure through her entire body. Did everyone feel this way? Snow White did not know. No one had ever told her about the magic button, how it worked, what it was for, what pleasure touching it caused. She tapped it with her finger. Some instinct told her to twirl the tip of her finger around it, and she did, and the pleasure was even better.

As she played with her flower button the brush handle drifted down, until its tip settled at the entrance to her flower channel. If the prince's staff fit within her, then surely the shiny brush handle would, too. She pushed. It was a tight fit, but made easier by the smoothness of the handle and the wetness of her insides. She pushed more, slowly, and watched with delight and amazement as the wooden handle disappeared inside her. She wiggled it and rotated it, and the movement sent waves of delight running through her body. Before, long, at least six inches had disappeared completely inside Snow White. She could not believe it! It could not be. But it was. She slowly pulled the brush out, and she watched in fascination as the thin petals of her flower closed around and gripped the wooden handle, leaving a shiny film on it as she removed it.

Snow White was learning things about her flower that she'd never known. She learned that by moving her finger in a tight fast circle around her button while she plunged the handle in and out of her flower channel, she doubled the pleasure. Waves of delight, beyond anything her body had ever experienced, swept through her.

Suddenly, without warning, her body exploded, with a feeling stronger than anything else. The touch of her finger and of the brush handle became instantly unbearable, and she pulled them away, watching with amazement as fluid poured out of her onto the bed covers. Oh my! She had never seen such a thing and not thought it possible.

The feeling was extraordinary -- on the knife's edge between the most ineffable joy and the most unbearable agony. Her body shook. She had no control over the spasms. Her flower pulsed and clinched. Her legs twitched. She watched as her body slowly settled down and resumed its stillness. Sleepiness overtook her, and she lay back on her bed, until slumber overtook her.

She woke with the light streaming through the window. She lay atop the covers, and her dress still was pulled up to her waist, exposing her flower to the sunlight. How pink it looked, and sticky, too!

Snow White had a sudden urge to pull the night dress off her, and she did so, and walked naked to the window of the castle. She was not an exhibitionist, but no one had ever taught her to be ashamed of her body, either, so she thought nothing of standing nude at the window overlooking the palace grounds, and the city below it, and distant fields and forests that sprawled into the distance.

Her breasts warmed to the morning glow, and she cupped them and squeezed them and pinched her nipples. She was feeling her body in a way that she never had before, and it was wonderful. She wanted to play with her flower again, soon.

Far off, beyond the horizon, lay the land of Speerbergen, home of Prince Geoffrey. She thought of him, and of his hard, manly staff. She wanted Prince Geoffrey to fuck her again. She had never wanted anything so much. She wondered when her prince would come back.

* * * *

The queen remained in her chambers that morning after a long and restless night, still fuming, and refused to see anyone at first. Then she called an aide and commanded her to bring two of her best and most handsome--and well-hung--knights.

Within an hour, they had arrived. The queen wore a crimson dress, slit all the way to her hip and sashed loosely at the waist, her hair immaculately coiffed and her lips painted red to match her dress.

For the next three exhausting and gymnastic hours, the Queen fucked both men in every way possible. She blew both of them, and they spit-roasted her, filling every one of her holes, and she shrieked and moaned. All three of them came multiple times, the Queen most of all. The knights came in her and on her, and her body was a sweaty, sticky, cum-lacquered mess by the time the knights were done and sent on their way.

The queen lay back in her bed, staring at the coffered ceiling, her confidence restored that surely with such a performance she had regained her "throne," so to speak.

She approached the mirror for confirmation.

"Mirror, mirror, make my nightmare stop.

Surely, after today, I'm back on top."

The mirror replied:

"No, my Queen, it's still Snow White.

She pleasured herself in her bed last night.

Legs spread, she fucked herself with toys.

Soon, she'll spread those legs for boys.

She looks like an angel and she fucks like a demon.

She's just waiting to be filled with the prince's semen."

"No!" the queen screamed again, at the top of her lungs. She broke still another vase.

The queen felt not just rage and jealousy, but panic. If Snow White was such a good lay, then she could seduce the prince, and if the little tramp had children with that son of a bitch, they would be heirs to the throne. They could challenge her rule! She--the queen--challenged. Inconceivable!

No. It could not be allowed to happen. She would have to carry out the scheme she had hatched the night before.

She had to stamp out the threat of Snow White, once and for all. It was time.

* * * *

When Snow White heard that she was to go on a picnic in the woods outside the city, she was excited. She had not been to those particular woods before, and the prospect of seeing them thrilled her. Snow White loved all living things, and they loved her back. Birds and animals never seemed to fear her as they feared other people. Squirrels would gather near as she tossed acorns to them, and birds would alight to eat seeds from her hand. She would be sure to take many acorns and seeds with her to the woods.

She was puzzled to learn from Grenda that none of her ladies would go with her, and that, in fact, she would have only one escort--the Queen's huntsman. Snow White thought well of everyone, but the huntsman was not the friendliest or most voluble man, and he would not make the most agreeable companion. Snow White surmised that the huntsman was sent to escort her because of his skill and knowledge of the woods. She met the huntsman at the palace gate. She brought her white horse, Drift, and he rode atop a black stallion. His countenance, it seemed to Snow White, was oddly taciturn, even grim, for a man about to go on a picnic. Snow White's horse Drift's pack was filled with food her ladies had prepared for her, a blanket, and acorns and seeds for the animals.

Soon they were off, taking an unfamiliar path until they entered the woods. They rode a long way, cantering among tall trees, into the depths of the forest, until its canopy enshrouded them. She would have liked to see more sun find its way through the trees, but the forest was pretty, in its own wild way. The huntsman said little, despite Snow White's efforts to engage him in conversation.

At last, they came to a place after miles of riding in the forest. The huntsman muttered a few words about setting up there, and they got off their horses. Snow White lay the checkered blanket on the grass at her feet and set up the basket with food. She looked forward to seeing animals, but so far, she saw none, and the birds remained far away, high in the trees. The presence of the huntsman, who was a very tall man, perhaps daunted them.

He seemed agitated. He scowled, and Snow White wished that he was friendlier, but observed that he was, in a rough way, a handsome man. He was taller than the prince, and his shoulders were very broad, and his chest bulged with muscle under his tunic.

She wondered, suddenly, what his staff was like. Was it as long and thick as the prince's? Was it as hard? Did he fuck girls, too, just like the prince did?

Snow White, until recently a virgin, could not stop thinking about fucking. Even in presence of the gruff, and not altogether friendly, huntsman, her body tingled, and she imagined the huntsman's staff inside her.

She remembered what the queen had said: no fucking. But she could not stop thinking about it.

"Mr. Huntsman," she said to him, finally, as he took a drink from his canteen. "Do you like fucking?"

He spit the water out of his mouth, all over the grass.

"Wha . . . what did you say?" He gaped at her, a look of incredulity on his face. Snow White wondered why he seemed so surprised. Perhaps he did not know about fucking, just as she had not.

"Fucking," she resumed. "Do you like fucking? I was just wondering."

"Every man likes fucking, I reckon," he growled. "But it's a weird thing to hear that word coming from a princess's mouth. Why are you asking me about fucking?"

"I just fucked the other day for the first time. It was Prince Geoffrey who fucked me, actually. It felt so good. I want to do it again. But the queen told me not to."

"Now I get it," he said, softly, almost to himself. "The bitch is jealous. That's why she wants me to do this. I don't want to, but I have to."

"What did you say?" Snow White asked, barely hearing and not understanding his words.

"It's nothing," he said. "You'll know soon enough. Enjoy your las . . . your meal, your highness."

He looked into her face, almost with a look of kindness that she had not seen before.

"So, you like fucking, your highness?"

"I do, so much. The prince put his staff in my flower, and I loved it."

The huntsman sneered. "Staff. Flower. 'Cock' and 'cunt' do for me."

"Oh yes!" she said. "I remember the prince used those words. I had never paid much attention to my . . . cunt before, and I had never seen man's cock. Here, see."

Without further ado, Snow White pulled the dress up her legs, to her waist. She was bare underneath, and the petals of her flower lay exposed to the huntsman's eyes. Snow White was delighted to see the look of eagerness and fascination in his face, overcoming its gruff mask. She spread her legs wider so he could see better, and she used her fingers to pull the petals back.

"There it is," she said happily. "My flower. My cunt. My pussy. I love all these new words I've learned. I enjoy looking at it. Do you enjoy looking at it too? I enjoy seeing you look at it."

"It's beautiful, Princess," he said, and in his voice was a mixed tone of delight and sadness. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I hate to . . . "