The Taming of Princess Rapunzel ( 7-fini)

The King rode through the forest, his bejeweled doublet gleaming in the mid-day sun. His horse, a rich chestnut stallion of dubious breeding but good temperament pranced through the late-summer afternoon.

He was in good humor. Life at the palace had settled into an ease of contentment. His wives were happy, his councillors were happy, and his children and all the tutors were happy. It was amazing that one wee Princess could disrupt so many with her willful ways.

He thought of the Head Woodsman, wondering how he had fared these last several fortnight’s. He loved his daughter, and in truth had aided and abetted her spoiling. He rubbed his jaw, reflectively. Still, the minx was nearly past marriageable age. He’d promised her mother that he would not parcel her out as was the wont of many kings, for his own political gain.

But Gods knew, he was sick to death of dealing with her himself.

****

She came back from the stream behind her fathers hunting lodge. She was dressed simply, her gown bereft of the embellishments she had thought so important when she was at court. Her hair was gathered back into a simple braid at her crown, then left to cascade down her back.

He liked it that way.

She carried the bucket with ease now, her body accustomed to work that she had once found so odious.

He had changed that, too.

She smiled as she passed the kitchen garden,  thinking of how he had tutored her on weeding…her, naked,  on her hands and knees in the dirt, his thickened cock buried betwixt her thighs, rutting her forward to each new weed, not permitting her to move away, His hands fisted in her hair as though using reins. That was their third day here, and she was enraged that he used her body to foil her every attempt to evade the lessons he was teaching her.

He’d rutted, she had shouted and hurtled invective at him. Clever, creative, rude invective. He’d impaled her so hard that her arms had buckled, and she was planted, face first, into the soil. He’d held her hips and swirled his ’round, the sensation overwhelmingly sensuous. She’d begged for release, unclear if she wanted him to let her go, or give her the sexual explosion that she had come to crave.  He had ignored her plea. Instead,  he lifted her by her hair, bidding her to continue at her task. Her face caked with dirt, her hands and knees smudged deeply with ingrained dirt, she thought only of her deepest desire. Not a bath. Not a rag. She thought only of her needy love-hole, throbbingly filled with his cock.  Yet, only when she had finished the row would he give her the release that she really craved.

Oh, truly it had been a hard-fought war, but in the end, they were both triumphant, His seed spilling deeply into her body, as her own juices coated him thickly in response.

Her nipples tingled and she moved on, a brief frown flashing across her face. He’d tied them this morn’, with thin tendrils of rough hemp, tight wrapped around her buds. At first she had laughed that it was faint punishment, she must be mellowing Him. The wolf’s grin had danced around his face before settling on his mouth, crinkling his eyes, and teasing out the dimples she enjoyed dipping her pointy pink tongue into.

“Give it time, Princess. You will be cursing me ere half the morning passes. I’ll return by noon with game, and you will remember henceforth to not forget to latch the goat’s gate.”

She had trilled out a laugh, finding it very humorous to recall him trying to herd the goats back into their enclosure. Her job had been to stand by the gate and shut it once he had them in.

It had taken over an hour to catch the first doe, then the other. The buck wandered over when the girls had been rounded up, and willingly led into the paddock. Himself was sweaty and annoyed when the three were enclosed, and when she laughed at him, had glared at her. She had bolted at that look, but he caught her by her flowing tresses. First he spanked her, until her bottom was rosy and she was begging for forgiveness. He then declared that she would have an additional atonement for the laughter that she had dared let spill at His expense.

And then he had buried her face into his sweat-filled armpit. He’d overwhelmed her with his musky scent then, and continued to overwhelm her even now.  There was still a tremendous learning to be done!   She gave a brief thought to the life she had left behind. She pictured the court, her parents and siblings. Overdressed courtiers, simpering fops bidding for her attention….how empty that life had been, and her all unaware.  Still, she wondered. Did they miss her?

Doubtful. She’d been a bratling, as Adam had said.

She was distracted by a commotion from the front of the lodge. Leaving the bucket on the cupboard, she went towards the entrance, wiping her hands on her apron, and her sweaty forehead on her sleeve.

And stopped and stared at her father, overdressed for this simple setting, standing and gawking at her. Beside him stood Adam.

“I found your Father whilst out hunting, and accompanied him here, Princess Pita.”

“Pita?” queried the King.

“Yes, Majesty. Princess Pain-In-the-Ass.”

The King stared at his Chief Woodsman. Then looked at his daughter, transformed from petulance to her truest beauty. And began to chuckle.

The chuckle became a rumbling laugh. And the rumbling laugh became thigh-slapping mirth.

The Princess crossed her arms over her chest and stood watching her father, bent double in his humor, quirking one eyebrow at Adam. Then quickly uncrossed her arms, at the unexpected pain and pressure on her now tightly swollen nipples. The frown danced across her face briefly, but He saw it. The smile he sent her in return was smug.

The King recovered himself, slapping his Chief Woodsman on the shoulder with a “Good Man, good man!”

This was going better than even HE had thought. His quick assessing glance took in his daughters posture, her nipples jutting through her simple smock, even through her apron, and the way her gaze returned again and again to the tall, confident man at his side.

It seemed he’d found the perfect man to help let down Rapunzel’s hair.

You’ve followed a sennight, and enjoyed her tale…if i stop it now will there be a wail? Let me know knaves and lasses, if now we move on, or should there be one more verse to this song..?