The Princess and the Pe(nis) ~ Afterward ~

The building gleamed in the rising sun, tones of pink and orange washing over the face of it as the new day burst with joy onto the horizon.

“It looks good, even from here, doesn’t it?”

The princess turned from the window to look at her prince, smiling as she watched him playing with their son in the middle of their very rumpled sheets, in their very comfortable bed. Later she could attribute the wet spot to diaper leak…maybe.

“You’ve been looking at it for months-overseen every possible part of construction, searched the lands for tomes of all types- do you think it could be anything other than magnificent?”

He rubbed the soft red curls of Joslyn, his son.

“What do you say little prince? Did your momma do a fine job?”

The young prince looked up at his poppa with sparkling eyes, and a radiant smile. He bounced a little on the bed, then leaned forward and planted a wet, juicy kiss on his daddy’s mouth. Plopping back onto his rump, hands curled into tiny fists, he answered succinctly.


He didn’t have many words, but that had been one of his first.

His momma flew across the room, scooping him up and covering his face with kisses. He put up with it – she laughed at all the faces that he made as she did so – and he loved to make her laugh.

“Smart boy! Aren’t you momma’s smart little prince?”

There was a short knock on the door of their room, and his nurse came in, curtsying to the prince and princess.

“I’ll get him ready for the big day, Ma’am,” she said, taking him from the princess.

In moments, the prince and princess were alone.

It doesn’t take a lot of skill to imagine what happened next, the two randy young people alone, with a big, big bed, does it?

I forgot. You do like all those sort of details, don’t you? Well, you know, I’ve already spoken of the Princes’ mighty sword, the Princess’s large, round breasts. I needn’t go into all that again, need I?

I didn’t think so.

Now, where was I?

Ah,  yes…one moment, the princess was standing, watching the nurse move into the nursery with her son, and the next, was tugged backwards onto the bed.

“I believe you mentioned that all  type of books would fill your library…yet you have left one out.”

“That is not a book,” giggled the princess, grasping his cock and rubbing it with her warm hand. “Besides, I do indeed have a section on bedsports, so there!” Bowing her head, she blew a soft raspberry against the head of his shaft, making him moan.

“Vixen! I mean you have left out our book, the story of the Princess and the Pea, the story of us.”

“Oh, someday I’ll get around to writing that history down for our children, worry not!”

She dissolved into giggles as the prince licked and blew against her soft belly, the two of them little realizing that I was still in the room. I’ve seen more of those encounters than I could recount even in these pages!

Eventually the prince rolled her to her belly, and lifted her hips. This is a position that I enjoy very much, and judging from the sounds the princess made, so does she! In and out his fat cock slid, gleaming wetly as he moved between her thighs, hands tight on her hips. When she was nearing her climax, he would stop, either fully inside or fully withdrawn, and make her beg.

“You beast! I’m … please. Oh goddess…I need…”

And he would laugh, a deep and wicked laugh.

“Bliss prolonged is deeper bliss, my fair princess.” And he would slowly enter, or withdraw, and ever so slowly reverse. She attempted to buck him, but he held her steady and fast, not allowing her to move an inch.

To further her torment, he would reach under, and flick one hanging tit, pinch one distended nipple. Whimpers and moans, grunts and groans would ensue, until finally he would relent and begin to thrust with hard, long strokes.

When she exploded, he held still, his jaw clenched with the effort of not joining her in release; as she began to ebb, he began fucking hard, stroking into and out of her body, making them both grunt with the force of it.

When he came, she too clenched, fingers grabbing at the silken sheets, her mouth open, eyes shut at the delightful sensations.  At long last he was done, pulling his spent shaft from her with a wet sucking sound.

Flopping beside her, he gathered her close, and they slept for a time.  A bell tolling the hour off in the distance roused her first. Rolling to face him, she kissed his nose, his cheeks, and finally his mouth, all while he slept.

Or feigned sleep…for when her lips met his, he rolled her to her back, one hand in her hair, the other lifting her leg as he slipped between them.

I do believe it possible that the Prince must have alley-cat in his lineage, but I digress.

She may have tried to protest, there was some mumbling happening, but in moments, the only sounds in the room were soft moans, wet splashes, and the slap of flesh against flesh. At some point her heel went up over his shoulder, her ankle hooking over his neck, as he drove deep inside of her, his mouth still attached to hers. They swallowed each others moans as they stiffened in harmony.

In moments, he had tugged her to her feet. Slapping her bottom, he directed her to the bathing room.

“Go, wench, or I will spend all day here rutting with you.” His cock, still stiff, bobbled up and down as he turned her, pushing her across the room.

“Want, want…” she tried to grab for his cock, missed, and fell to her knees.

He moved to scoop her up, but she grabbed around his thighs, and slid her tongue up and over his cock, suckling and giggling until she captured the head, and took it between her kiss-swollen lips.

“You little bi—” his moan caught him, before he could finish, his cock gobbled the full depth into her hungry mouth. Her small nails dug half-moons into the back of his thighs as she worked his aching rod, sucking, licking, massaging him until he felt the tell-tale tightening of his balls. He knew she loved to swallow him, but he wanted her belly filled, another child growing inside of her.

Taking a quick step forward, he caused her to fall backwards toward the floor, her mouth slipping off his throbbing shaft. She caught herself on the downward slide,  her hands  slipping down his thighs, his calves, until she lay back on the floor with him straddling her. He looked down at her with a  fierce expression, his cock huge with his hunger for her.

In seconds, he mounted her, thrusting hard and deep for the third time into her tight and wet pussy (pardon the expression). When he began to spurt, he pressed deep into her, until his balls were squeezed between their bodies, as they emptied deep inside of her.

She wondered at the almost feral way he had taken her, his face fierce and serious and demanding. How that excited, thrilled, enticed her.

Placing her hand on her full-of-him belly, she wondered if some of his essence would catch with her and quicken a child inside her. She was ready-more than ready-to fill the royal nursery with another babe.


Arm in arm, the Prince and Princess walked up the 13 steps to the front of the library. In front of the long expanse of columns running the left-side length of the front portico,  were 13 boys-to-men standing shoulder to shoulder. The youngest was all of 2, the eldest was 80 if he was a day. Linking arms with the old man  in the center was an old woman, and the line of 13 females progressed down the right side, and down in age to the last little girl, who was not much older than the Crown Prince. The long fan of them blocked entry to the building, which featured multiple doors from the wide front portico.

The princess stood, glowing as bright as a candle, her dream at long last fulfilled. Within the building were many rooms, each meant to attract learners of all ages, all interests. As her husband opened the ceremonies, as she looked out to the sea of smiling faces, she saw her brother, her parents, her brother and sisters in law, her husbands parents, and everyone who had helped her to bring her long-held dream to fruition. From here forward in time, books and reading would be open to all who chose to walk through these doors. She thought for a moment of the librarian in her parents kingdom, and silently thanked him for strengthening her resolve to move forward on this project. Standing on the solid reality of that dream gave her an immense thrill. Smiling, she returned her attention to her husband, who was finishing his introduction to his wife.

In bringing her to our kingdom, we have brought a dream to life, and life to a dream. My beloved, mother of your crown prince, and keeper of my heart, my princess, to you I offer blessings on this day of wonder.

He stepped away from the podium, urging her forward. She had no speech prepared,  yet knew exactly what she wanted to say. Her hands shook just a bit as she saw the expectant faces looking at her from all over the place! The courtyard was full, the steps were full, the garden was full…as far as she could see, there were people!

Turning, she pushed apart the linking arms of the old couple, and the two lines parted on queue.

“Let me tell you a story….”

She turned back, gesturing that age-old sweep of arm that meant “come in,” inviting the crowd to move up the steps and into their new library. Her husband hugged her tight, as blessings and smiles were bestowed upon her. And then the crowd surged into the lovely building, to learn, to explore, and to dream.

The End

And now, you curious creatures, much as I’d love to sit and be petted by you, I have kittens to attend to. Fare thee well.

…..with that, the narrator stalks off, stopping to scratch her ear, and look back to see if you’re still watching her stride off,  her tail swishing from side to side. After a moment, a large tabby male slides out from behind a sweetly flowering bush, and stealthily moves to follow her. Since two of her kittens have similar markings to him, I am more than certain that she knows very well that he’s there, don’t you? 🙂 After all, we both know that she’s a very sexy little pussy.  The end!

The Princess and the Pe(nis) (5)

So, yer back for the last bit of the tale, are ye? Well, we’ll finish this up, then I shall go and have my morning nap, agreed? Good.

Traditions are funny things. They often have their roots in the simplest of beginnings, yet are carried forward through time as if they were the most necessary thing in the world.

Such was the case with the princess. Early in the morning, she was roused from a dream of the man she had tumbled with the day before. Her shoulder throbbed, her bottom ached, and her breasts and woman-folds were tender. In her dream, he held her still, his cock pressing into her from behind ~ oh how she had enjoyed that ~ filling her, as his hands twisted and pinched at her breasts. She woke when her nurse rubbed her shoulder, bidding her to “wake, my pretty.”

She’d woken to that very greeting every day of her life, and there was more than a tinge of sadness between the two women, as they realized that today would be the last. Nurse would be retired, and set up in her own household, well taken care of by the King and Queen, as the princess began her new life as the wife of the Randy-Cock Prince. She wasn’t happy about that, yet the memory of her unexpected encounter yesterday filled her mind enough to push away her trepidation, at least for the nonce.

A simple outfit was laid out, a plain cotton chemise, a white shift,  a delicate shawl. There were thin slippers, and a veil as well.

“Tradition at your Princes’ homeland is for you to arrive as a traveler, claiming to be a princess. They will tell you more when you arrive, but you will dress as a common woman, and on the morrow, you will be accepted into the family as the mate for their son the Prince.”

The nurse bustled around her as she disgorged information. In short order, she was prepared, and brought to her parents.

After tear-filled fare-thee-wells, she was placed on a plain horse. Of course it was her old friend, Sandy, who looked at the princess sheepishly, as if embarrassed about throwing her into the river. Yet, if not for that, she might never have met and mated with the delightful stranger, who’s bruises branded her body. She patted the pony on the nose, and kissed her velvety muzzle.

She would be led to the Prince’s castle grounds by a small entourage of guards, then left to enter alone. Her family would arrive on the morrow to celebrate the nuptials. There was much bustling and hubbub in the outer bailey as the princess mounted her mare, and clucked her to move.  The faster she got on with it, the faster this nightmare would be over. Hopefully the prince would have little to do with her, and she’d be allowed to begin planning the library of her dreams.


The prince rolled his eyes at his father. Though he was well away from the years when such was only marginally accepted, this newest edict by his parents was so ridiculous that there was no other response.

“It is the way it has been done.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Your mother is expecting the tradition to continue, as it did when she arrived here to wed me. Do not scoff at her, lest she begin to cry. Again. I do not like to see your mother so overcome. You will make yourself scarce for today, but remain within the castle proper. You will meet your bride in the morning, as has been done for generations.”

When he would have protested more, his father raised his hand and spoke a single terse word.


The prince shut his mouth, yet his eyes flashed. He should at least be able to meet the woman he’d be shackled to for the rest of his days.  Yet this stupid tradition said that she and he would not meet until they stood beside one another, standing before the priest who would bind them together.

“Here. This is the bridal ring that has been given on Joining day. You will use it in the ceremony, but will need to create your own to present to your bride later.”

“It is already attended to Father. I know the tradition. Just because I don’t agree with it, doesn’t mean I’m not prepared for it.” With a terse nod, he strode from the room, trying to not sulk. Parents! Would that they could see that he was a man grown and leave him be.


They’d left in the morning, and arrived late in the evening. Darkness had closed around them, as stars winked on above. The scent of loamy earth rose to tease at her nostrils. Ah, the last smell of freedom, she thought, as the lit walls of the castle came into view ahead. Just outside of the drawbridge, which was up, her entourage stopped.

Duncan dismounted, and helped her off her pony.

“Good blessings to you, little one,” he murmured, giving her a brief hug. He felt the little quivers of fear from her, but, wanting her to be the strong woman he knew her to be, gave her a small shake, and a smile.

“Show them what you are made of, princess.”

Turning Duncan walked away, leading her mare.

She stood, looking rather forlorn, as the jingle of harnesses faded away. She knew the men would pull back a mile or so and camp for the night.

Tipping her head back, she stared up and up the tall walls.

“Hello?” Her voice was tiny, and sounded…forlorn. Well, that would never do.

“Hey!” she yelled. “Open up. Tis a chill in the air!”

“Who goes there?”

“A princess, and I’m cold and tired.”

There, the tradition had been upheld. She shook her head in the dark. Such ridiculousness. Her daughter would never…that thought drew her up short, even as the creaking and clanking signalled the lowering of the large drawbridge. Her hand moved to her belly, and she wondered…had he planted a seed inside her? Oh, the thought of that both thrilled and worried her.

With a thunk that made her jump, the bridge dropped full into place. A woman stood there.

“A princess, you say?”

“Yes, Majesty,” she replied, again according to tradition. She recognized Queen Margaret immediately and smiled. Her godmother frowned at her. More tradition.

“You will need to prove that before you can wed my son.”

“How shall I prove this to you?”

“Come with me, we shall see.”

The princess moved forward, and the Queen linked arms with her.

“There, now, tradition has been satisfied for now. I have food being kept warm for you, child, thinking you may not have eaten much today. Am I correct?”

She understood! How Margaret needed that just now. Of course, she remembered,  her future mother-in-law had been through this very scene when she had come here to wed her Prince Leo.  At least she came here,  knowing King Leo and Queen Margaret. How much harder it must have been for Queen Margaret, when she came here for the first time, never having met anyone in King Leo’s family.

After a light meal, and lively conversation, the scene was once more taken up.

“Come, girl,” bid the queen. She was led to a small chamber filled with a single bed…piled high with feather mattresses.

“You will sleep here on our most comfortable guest bed,” bid the Queen, and then she was left alone.

She smiled. Silly traditions. Taking up the brush on the table, she tended to her hair before braiding it for the night, put her simple valise on the table, and shed her clothing.

Wearing just a simple shift, she clambered up the bed-ladder, and lay down. The bed was soft, dreamy. She fell asleep quickly, more tired by the events of the last few days than she had imagined.

In the morning, she was wakened by the Queen.

“And how did you sleep?”

She knew her part well, by now.

“Simply terrible, Majesty. The bed was …unexpectedly lumpy. Why, I’m bruised from head to toe!”

Reaching between the lowest two mattresses, the Queen withdrew a single dry pea. Holding it aloft for all to see and bear witness to, she then turned the girl, and tugged down the left shoulder of her gown. There was indeed a series of small bruises on her left shoulder…and the princess was very glad that the queen had not revealed her right shoulder where the bruise there looked suspiciously like …teeth.

The queen threw her arms around the princess, exclaiming to all gathered outside “Tis true, tis true! A princess has arrived to wed my son, at long last!”

The princess barely contained her urge to roll her eyes and exclaim, “oh, glory,” in her drollest tone. None there knew that the queen had gently pinched the princess on this same shoulder as she had led the girl to the guest room the night before. She plastered a smile on her face, as she was turned to face the queen.

But it was not the queen who stood there. It was Prince Randy-Cock himself. He was a handsome devil, to be sure, but she had never doubted that, having met several of his siblings. The queen and king bred beautiful children.

The prince was shocked.

Rather than a horse-faced lass, he found a beautiful young woman. Yes, her hair was red; tied back in her bed-braid he couldn’t tell much about it, really. Her features were sweet, her nose tiny and upturned, her eyes the deepest blue of mid-summer skies. Her lips were pink and full, and he felt a quick punch of lust in his gut.

She glared at him, yet held her tongue, seeing the group of people congregated outside the door watching their first meeting with avid curiosity.

Standing on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek.

Except that he turned his head at the last moment, and captured her lips with his own. Taking her head in his hand, he kissed her deeply and thoroughly, shocking them both with the sense of familiarity.

The princess was annoyed, and oddly, excited, by the stolen kiss.

“I greet you…my betrothed.”

“I greet you, my beauty.”

At that she did roll her eyes.

“Really?” She whispered at him. “Really? Are you so cock crazed that this is the only important thing?” She pointed at her face, frowning.

He smiled at her, and took her by that hand, leading her out of the room. His hand grasped hers firmly, sensing the struggle to come, as he tugged her through the crowd who called blessings to them as he strode with her to the family chapel.

In moments it was done.

Her family was there, though they’d been but a blur as he’d pulled her into the small space. She had seen the Priest, clad in the deep ruby cloak of his office, representing the blood of the Mother who had birthed them all. She saw the hundred candles, lit and gleaming, symbolizing the hundred years wished upon them for a long life together. She smelled the scent of orange blossoms, and perfume, everything a whirling assault on her senses.

She hadn’t expected to be so overcome. Yet she felt tears gather as the ancient words were spoken.

We are birthed of the Mother, and spend our lives in search for the spirit of the One she has planned for us to be with. Today we gather to join one such pairing.

Well, our princess was a bit skeptical of that statement, knowing the hand of men had more to do with her joining to the prince…but the moment was ripe with emotion. I saw tears in her parents eyes, too, as I looked on from the sidelines. It was a lovely ceremony, if you enjoy those sorts of things.

Yes, I know, you likely do enjoy them, don’t you?

Well, eventually, all the words were spoken, and the ring was pressed onto her finger, and they kissed and held hands, and moved out of the chapel, and into the Great Room, where a huge feast, days in the making began. This is always my  favorite part, really.

The prince and princess ate, talked to people around them, danced, and spent the rest of the day entertaining the crowd as he kissed her hand, her fingers, her nose, and she would smile, grimace, or roll her eyes depending on whether she thought someone was watching.

Well, I was watching…and if you’d been there you’d have smiled about it too.

At long last, the party quieted, and the King uttered the words that the Prince had been yearning for, for quite some time.  I’m not as certain about the princess, however.

“My son, the Prince, and my newest daughter, the Princess, may adjourn to their chambers, and set about the task of providing heirs for the kingdom.”

That, by the way, was more of that traditional talk. The princess turned bright red, as obviously, no one had told her of that part. The prince laughed, and scooped her up, and strode from the room.

“So she won’t run away,” He called over his shoulder to the assorted cat-calls from the watchers, who likely would slink off in assorted groupings for their own post-wedding matings.

I know I did.

And yes, I did promise that this tale would be done today. But I think, just looking at you, that you’re the kind that wants all the details. I speak rightly, do I not?

Yes, I rather thought so. Now, as I said at the start, I need to bathe, and then curl in the sun and rest. This tale-telling is exhausting work.  I shall see you on the new day. Now, off with you.

The Princess and the Pe(nis) (4)

mmmmmm….’scuse my stretching…so…you’re back for more, are you? I wonder what will happen to the princess and the ever-randy prince today, don’t you? OH. You want me to tell you more, not just stand here dawdling. Oh, well, if you insist?

You do, don’t you. Oh, I can see it in your eyes, though you are too polite to say. Very well, then, where were we…..hmmm. I seem to recall breasts and protuberant nipples and …yes, yes.

So after the rain passed…


You want me to go back and tell you all of that stuff? You do? Very well, then, though the telling may make me blush.

The prince was now kneading the princess’s breasts. She had never felt such things before, naturally enough, and the tease and taste of his mouth on hers, his tongue daring to and fro in her mouth was enough to set her on fire. But add in the delightful tension of his hands doing wondrous things to her still tender bosom?

She was suddenly burning with heat, throbbing with the need for something more.

“More,” she mumbled against his mouth.

“Vixen,” he replied against hers, for he loved a wanton woman the best. Tugging her around behind the horse, they fetched up against the far wall of the shed. His body pressed against hers, his hands mashed into her breasts, his mouth assaulted her, even as her knees trembled and weakened.

In moments they were on the floor, rolling in the hay, hands and mouths everywhere. Her pants were tugged down, his too, and they explored each other in the dark. They didn’t hear the rain beating down just over their heads, only the ragged sound of breathing as they touched bodies that went from wet and cold, to sweaty and hot.

When she found his turgid cock, she was shocked. Julie had not been kidding when she had said that a mans shaft grew hard, but was also soft as warm velvet. His flesh was smooth and hot, but the thick rod was hard and almost pulsing.

“Kiss it,” he whispered gruffly, and she bent her head and lay her lips upon it. She tasted a wet, salty syrup upon her lips, a curious flavor that was unfamiliar but oddly enticing.

His fingers slid between her thighs, and she shivered. She knew about the mansword and her own little kitten she should keep hidden. Yet, his fingers, those skillful digits, parted her and slid ever deeper, teasing and taunting her flesh, until her hips rose and pressed for more.

His cock replaced his fingers, and slid along the same path as they; yet at the entrance to her tunnel, he paused, feeling the tightness there. He wondered at it for a moment, before her hands grabbed at his head and her lips grazed his face, and her teeth nipped at his bottom lip. With a thrust he was inside of her, the wet, moist heat surrounding his shaft and making him groan.

“What a good girl,” he moaned, kissing her deeply, and mistaking her shocked gasp for pleasure, he began to move. Slowly, wishing to draw out this last fuck for the memory of it, he slid in and out of her in short little jabs, before withdrawing and plunging. His mouth attached to a nipple, sucking hard and biting as his cock buried itself between her thighs.

As for our princess, she was shocked to her core at the intimate intrusion, yet after the initial shockwave had passed, and his caresses had gentled and then excited her, she craved more. His teeth on her breast, his cock in her belly caused her to writhe, and rise and bump back up to receive him as deeply as possible.

It was as if someone had set her alight, like a candle, except she felt like she was glowing from the inside, out. When her climax came, she felt as swept away by him as she had by the water flowing down below the shed.

His eruption came soon after hers, the sound of his yell of release even louder than the drumming of the rain on the roof. Drained for the moment, they fell asleep in the hay, wrapped in each other.


He woke first, shifting to release tension in his left arm. He tried to not wake her, the sweet little lass, but in the faint light from the still-open doorway, he saw one nipple pucker and rise, an impudent survivor of their sex-war, out on patrol. His finger reached out and pressed it, yet the impudent thing rose even higher, as if taunting him. He flicked it, pinched it, then rolled it. Her nipples, so very large, tickled his fancy, and he continued to play with it, until his mouth longed for a taste, and he began to suckle.

She stirred beneath him as waves of sensation passed from her assaulted nipple to the sensitive bud between her folds. It wasn’t long before they were rolling again, bodies thrusting and moaning and leaking, making the horse shift away from them as they laughed, rolled, bit and tumbled about the small space. At long last, as she was on her belly, he fell atop her, taking her from behind, hands on her hips and thrusting deeply, filling her in this different way. Her body shook as she came undone, feeling her muscles clamping down even as her ass raised, begging him to come deeper into her.

He bit her shoulder, hard, making her cry out, shocked at the sudden pain. His hand slapped her ass, and she whimpered for more, even as his teeth stayed locked in the flesh of her shoulder. Fingering her breast, she grabbed his wrist, nails digging deeply into his forearm as she squeezed, as her head shook nooo, then yesss…until at last they released as one, and tumbled again into the abyss of sleep.

When he woke later, she was gone.

Sitting up, rubbing his eyes, he looked around for her. The ruby glow of the setting sun illuminated the small shack. His horse farted, filling the space with unpleasant scent. Quickly he scrambled to his feet, and still naked, led the beast outside, where he spurted onto the grass. Another moment and the nasty creature would have shit on him, the prince realized. Outside, the world glowed, deep green, cleaned by the drenching downpour. Of the girl, there was no sign.

Hobbling the horse, he went back inside to dress, and gathered his mounts tack so as to begin the return trip to the castle.


Slogging through the last of the rain wasn’t as unpleasant as it might have been. The princess was unattentive, actually, her thoughts turned inward, on him. He was a stranger, but he’d done wonderous things to her body. She felt the ache of bruises, back, front, sides. She would wear the brand of his teeth for some time, she knew.

She crossed the run-off, and continued on, only looking up when the first rays of light began to glimmer on the horizon. So the storm had blown out its fury, she mused, just as she had.

Within an hour, having covered a fair amount of ground, she heard the clatter of multiple horses ahead. Unsure whether to hide or stand her ground, it was too late, and proved unnecessary. It was Duncan, her father’s chief steward, and a small troop of guards.

“Majesty,” he inclined his head as he dismounted, “you seem a bit…wet.”

She pushed an unruly, dripping, tangle of hair off her forehead, and grimaced at the grinning man.

“Whatever gave you that idea, Duncan?”

He smiled at her, and removed his short cloak from his shoulders, wrapping it around her. He resisted the urge to pull the straw from her hair, as he had done when she was a child, caught jumping from the rafters of the great barn.  Though she looked more like an urchin, she was a princess after all.  He led her to a riderless horse.

“Majesty? Your mount, unless you would like to ride with me?”

“I’m not porcelain, you know! A bit of rain, and a dunking are not going to overset me, sir.” She punched him in the arm. He pretended to fall back a step, then slipped in the mud and landed with a squish, in the middle of a puddle.

Everyone laughed, even Duncan. Helping him to his feet,her hair flopped forward;  she saw the straw nibs in her hair, and sighed. She was going to look frightful when she was ‘escorted’ home to her family.

“How mad are they?” she said at last.

“Oh, I’d say they’ll hug you hard before they send you to your room until your wedding!”

And in fact that is what happened. After the joyful celebrations, after her mother hugged her hard enough to press all the bruises deeper into her flesh, after her father scolded her soundly, then kissed her hard, she was sent to her room to bathe.

“Ye look like you been beat,” said her nurse, as she moved around the room, preparing her charge for a long relaxing bath, complete with shampooing the hay from her tangled tresses. Indeed, she had bruises everywhere.

She tried to be casual, as she slipped into the bathwater, sighing at the heavenly feeling of warm water on dirty, sore flesh.

“Well, I was thrown from my stupid horse,” she said, by way of explanation, thankful that she’d undressed herself and bundled into a robe while nurse got the bath ready.

“Tomorrow you will journey to your Prince’s home, to undergo their traditional wedding test.”

The nurse spoke to her as she bobbled, remembering the feeling of his hands on her breasts, when the words broke into her musings.

“What? What test? No one spoke to me of a test? I must study…”

“Now missy, you just lay back, it ain’t that sort of test, not atall. Something about a featherbed and a pea and I’m not sure what-all else. Of course, there is no question that you’re a bonafide princess and all, but tradition must be satisfied!” With that, the nurse bundled up the awful, soiled boy-clothing, and left the princess to her bath, and pondering.

You didn’t forget about the pea, now, did you? Tsk. It’s an integral part of the tale, after all. Nonetheless, I’m all talked out for today. It is time for my grooming, speaking of baths. Do see yourself out. If you want the end of the tale, do return on the morrow. Fare thee well till then.

The Princess and the Pe(nis) (3)

Are ye ready for the next part? Some big doings are afoot in this chapter. Settle down now, I’ll get there. Okay, so yesterday we discovered that the prince and princess have more in common than either of them know. I love it when things happen that way…you just know there’s going to be some unexpected sparks ahead, don’t you? Well, here we go then….

The deluge came unexpectedly. One moment the sky seemed to be blue, the next, storm clouds boiled up and began disgorging copious amounts of wet onto the earth below.

Which included a solid dousing of the prince and princess, though they were yet miles apart.

I did mention to you that it was quite a Large Storm, if you recall!

The prince pulled the brim of his hat over his face, but it was of no use. The wind tugged it back again, streams of water covering his face in an instant. He felt the hat tumble to the ground and finally accepted that nature was going to give him a shower, will-he, nill-he. His horse kept plodding along, occasionally casting glances back over his shoulder as if to say “you dumb ass” as rain streamed off of him.

The wind began to blow in earnest, and the prince knew he needed to find shelter soon. This had the feeling of a nasty blow to it, and though he would have preferred to turn back to the last hamlet he’d come from, it was certainly too far away now. He thought he must be near the border, but the sheets of rain hid any and all landmarks. Off in the distance he saw a dark smudge on the horizon. Perhaps it was a house, or a barn. He kicked his heels into his mounts sides, trying to motivate the beast, but he only responded with a grunt- and kept plodding forward at a walk. He missed his good horse!


The rain began as a simple drop here, then there. She’d watched the sky darken as she’d sat under a tree, eating a piece of pilfered cheese and an apple. The veil of rain shimmered on the horizon, sending a curl of unease to her belly. She was too far from home, too far from shelter. She thought she must be nearer to the borderlands, closer to the Great Randy CockPrince than she really cared to be, but she’d wanted one last ride around her lands as a free woman.

She rubbed her bound breasts. Really, it was nice to not have them bouncing and bobbling with every dip in the road, every trotting step of the horse, but the bindings were tight and somewhat uncomfortable. Deciding she should move onward, for she knew there wasn’t shelter the way she’d come already, she moved off down the road towards the ever-darkening sky. The wind howled madly, tugging leaves from the tree limbs,and send them tumbling towards them. She’d been hit by several, as had Sandy, which made the skittish mare even more jumpy. She was not enjoying the adventure at all, the funny little horse.

The front wall of rain, for that is exactly what it looked like, hit them dead on, soaking her and the pony in seconds. The wind howled, and the path became mud quickly. Every step brought a splash, as they cleared the woods and entered a long rolling meadow. The road continued down, down, between soft tumbling hillocks of meadow land. A bold flash of light pierced the sky, while peals of thunder boomed. The horse, terrified,  spit the bit, and bolted.

Too busy trying to stay aboard the fleeing horse, she didn’t even have time to scream. The wind howled, thunder boomed and rain crashed down upon them. It was surreal and terrifying and exhilarating at the same time! All at once the horse stiffened, stopping in a sopping kind of skid.

The princess, unfortunately, did not stop, and was hurtled head-over-heels,  straight into a storm-fed run-off, that ran quick and deep between two large drumlins. She landed with a splash, yet the water was deep enough to cushion her fall. She was tumbled and rolled in the flow for a goodly distance before she could regain her feet. Peering through the heavy torrent of rain, to where her horse had stood, she realized that Sandy had turned and bolted, likely heading back to her warm stable. The little traitor!

She shivered, clothing plastered to her, hat gone, and  her hair cascading around her in a wild mess. She had landed on the far side of a flow that was growing steadily deeper. Just in the moments she’d been contemplating the loss of her mount, it had moved from her  ankles to nearly her knees. She sploshed and splashed her way to higher ground, trying to stay upright against the tug of the water. Looking back, she could see that the flow was very fast, and becoming dangerous.  Heart thudding with exertion and a goodly mix of nerves, she scrambled up to where the road reappeared. Impatiently she brushed her hair from her face, as it hung like a wet mop around her. What was that she was seeing? A shape, noticeably darker than the rain,  lay ahead.  She could barely see, with the rain falling in thick and heavy drops, each one a violent blow upon head, shoulders and body. She jolted as another harsh bolt sizzled across the sky, and whimpered as the thunder shook the earth. Running, falling, rising and running, she made her way to the  small building. It was a farmers shed, where he would keep harvest supplies. The farmers homestead could be miles away- or just over the next hill. There was no way to tell, in this weather. Outside, the rolling hills  must be an “upper field” as they called the outermost farm areas, close by, as she’d surmised, their neighboring kingdom.

Still, though there was no change of clothing, no towels, no food, it was dry, and out of the elements. The rain hissed down the sides of the shed, pounded on the roof. She examined the space with the door opened for some light. There were a few piles of old hay here, likely inhabited by mice. Still, she knew it would keep her warm. She peeled off her outermost shirt, and draped it across one pile of hay. Reaching for the hem of the second tunic, she tugged that over her head as well.Spreading that tunic beside the first, she began the task of unfettering her breasts. Dropping that wrapping onto the floor, she massaged her breasts, taking a deep breath for the first time in hours.

Something suddenly blocked the meager light.

“Hello? Is someone in here?”

Realizing with a shock that there was a person there, she though for a moment about hiding in the hay. But hay always made her sneeze, and just now an inopportune snort blew from her.

“Goddess bless,” came the voice, a deep, male voice, “and might I take shelter here?” He stepped into the shed, which felt all the smaller for his size. “Ah, there you are, lad…oh whoa there…you’re no lad!”

The prince, so it seems, had excellent eyesight, don’t you think? Or perhaps the princess’s breasts were just that obtrusive. I’m not sure, but I think this is getting exciting, don’t you?

Then again, I am a bit of an alley-cat, underneath it all! Yes, yes, more story, I see your face. Very well, then.

The princess had yet to utter a sound, other than her untimely sneeze. Should she play the princess card? Her mind turned cartwheels. She had no idea who this man was, but his voice did silly things to her tummy. Her nipples were hard pebbles, pressing against her cold, clammy palms. Despite the dimness of the surroundings, he could tell she was not a young lad. Silently cursing her need to pull off her breast-binders, she quickly decided to not reveal who she was. He might not be a kidnapper, or something worse, but she wasn’t going to trust him, either.

“I…no. I’m not a boy.”

She saw the quick flash of teeth in the gloom.

“Well-I would think it would be hard to hide….those…” He flipped a finger towards her expansive bosom. She rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond to that particular comment.

“I’m just here until the rain stops.”

“Oh shit!” He turned quickly and strode out the door. He returned moments later with a very wet, quite disgruntled horse. The shed was large enough for the two of them and the horse, but not much else.

“Oh! The poor thing!”

Snatching up her shirt she began pulling it down his body, trying to slough off excess water. Wringing it out every few passes, she finished her side. He’d taken off the tack from the miserable beast; she moved around to his side and continued trying to dry him.

Hands settled on her hips, a warm, albeit wet body pressed against her back, her buttocks, even as his chin nuzzled her hair. She stiffened as his lips cruised down the side of her neck.

“Stop that!” she muttered, even as her body relished the heat coming from him.

“You don’t really want me to stop…do you?”

Fingers rose from hips to curl gently under her breasts, flicking softly at her protuberant nipples. Her hands stilled on the horse, who turned and looked at her as if to say, ‘get on with it, girl’. The soft moan slipped out as the tips of her breasts rose higher, tighter, as if beckoning him for more.

His breath was a warm whisper against her neck, his lips gently tracing the thudding beat there, as those nimble fingers accepted the challenge of those thrusting buds, and gripping them, rolled them, pinched them, teased them.

Suddenly the princess had a flash of her parents, her mother’s breast in her father’s hand, and she understood, at last, the raw and savage need that drew one to the other.

Throwing caution to the wind, she turned, moaning, surprising him as her mouth latched onto his.

“Saucy little bitch,” he murmured as his mouth pressed to her lips, teasing them open, and tasting her mouth for the first time.

Mating rituals are so tedious aren’t they? No? You liked that part? I guess that’s why these stories are writ this way, then. No, no more for today. I’m off to lay in the sun and dream. If you want more, you’ll have to return, tomorrow.

The Princess and the Pe(nis) (2)

Now, where was I? Oh, here, that’s right. The princess had just found out that her parents were set to marry her off to the son of the neighboring king. And she had a complete hissy fit. Right. So, let us continue, shall we?

She’d stomped. She’d thrown her brush, her comb, and her box of hairpins. She had come close to hurtling the large tome in her hand, but stopped herself. Never, even in her darkest hour, would she harm a book! Anger mostly spent, she flopped onto the overstuffed oval of her vanity chair.

She knew her parents would not relent, that she would find herself wed, will-she, nay-she, to that toad. She’d heard about him, Prince Leo. He’d fuck anything. Maybe even goats. She doubted that there was a female in his entire kingdom that hadn’t been penetrated by the royal cock.

After cleaning up the results of her tantrum ~she was a neat lass, to be sure, and wouldn’t make her elderly nurse tidy the mess ~ she sat, disconsolate, looking out the window. She knew she would relent. But…didn’t everyone want to marry because of love? Her parents had, or so their favorite story of their first meeting went. They’d been at a grand ball, and her father had taken one look at her mother and then and there had fallen head over heels in love for her. He said it was as if the fates had paired them. Mother did say that he had fallen in love with her cleavage first,  that he’d fallen madly in lust with her, which always made her father laugh, though he’d never yet admitted to those baser needs. Fate had worked for them. But for her? She doubted it. Of course, it was possible. Anything was possible. She knew that  her parents loved her, and would look out for her needs as well as the kingdom’s. But still….the idea of being shipped off like some sort of…chattel. She shuddered.


Well, then, enough of that sort of morose whining. Now, as for the  Prince, you must be wondering what is going on with him? Yes, let us see what he is about, shall we?

As for the Prince…

(yes, I did already say that. However, this is a fairy tale, after all, and I shall speak it exactly as it is writ!)

As for the Prince, he was truly no happier about the situation than the princess was. Although he wasn’t really a shallow, nor callous man, the idea of being stuck, “shackled”, he thought, to one woman, and an unattractive one at that, simply rankled. He knew that once married, there would be no dalliances with milkmaids, nor chance encounters with the downstairs maids. No indeed, he would be honor-bound to produce the proper number of heirs upon the poor ugly child.

He shuddered. He needed a bit more freedom, a feeling that grew more intense as the preparations for his upcoming nuptials filled the palace with a disturbing amount of hubbub. Leaving a note for his parents was the cowards route, but nonetheless, it is what he did.

Dear Father and Mother,

Worry not ~ I shall return in several days. I am going off to collect myself, and prepare for my upcoming marriage. I will bow to your will on this, but will take this last freedom first.



Leaving the sheet of velum on his desk, he braced it with his silver brush so that someone would see it. He dug in the bottom of his closet for his oldest pants, and the shirt he wore when working with his horses. It was old, slightly frayed, and stained, yet very comfortable. Taking a blanket, and a few coppers from his stash, he went out his balcony, down the stairs, and quietly let himself into the stable. He knew that taking his proud destrier would only gain him unwanted attention, so he took one of the less attractive ponies, and saddled her up with his oldest tack. He did not look like a prince, which was exactly what he wanted. Waving off the stable boy who opened the gate for him, he walked the horse out of the castle grounds, and didn’t begin to trot, then canter, until he was well away. Aah, the sweet smell of freedom wafting to his nostrils….


The princess, though she didn’t know it, was thinking exactly like her prince. She too knew that she would capitulate to her parents demands; she too wanted a bit of freedom to roam unobtrusively through the kingdom one last time. She didn’t want to be a queen…it was odious enough to be a princess, after all. All she wanted was the quiet of her books, and the challenge of creating her library.

She wrote a note to her parents as well; being the good and dutiful daughter she was, she didn’t want them to worry.

Dear Father and Mother,

I love you. I’m NOT happy about this – as you know -this sudden turn of events is difficult for me to embrace just now. Yet I will be your good girl, and marry the odious prince.

I know that you like him, and his parents, but ….well, it’s not fair!

I’m going to go for a ramble. I know you hate when I do it, but it will be the very last freedom I shall ever have, after you shackle me to that jackass.


Princess Margaret

(who is, by happenstance,  is very happy being a princess, you know. I don’t want to be a queen someday. I just want my library dream to come true. You don’t think a randy tomcat like the prince likes to read an actual *book* do you? I didn’t think so. )

Ah, our princess has a bit of a feisty side. Perhaps I didn’t mention that earlier? I believe it comes from her mother’s side of the family–but I digress.

The princess also had a stash of “boy clothing” that she wore when out on her rambles. Her parents had thought that they’d taken the last of those sort of things away from her, but she’d found a pair of her brothers old cast-offs when hanging around the laundry one day, talking with one of the junior laundress’s about the girl’s fixation of penis’. The princess  had never seen one, at least, not up close, but Julie had explained them in great and fascinating detail to her. That’s when she’d found the pants, when she had snatched them up to cover her burning cheeks, as Julie explained about hard cocks and the flow of thick cream to her. In actuality, she had forgotten she was holding them when she had left the laundry, and Julie had been too full of mirth to notice.

Deep in her closet were other pieces of old clothing, definitely not “princess” style. Slipping into the pants, she felt a curious sense of freedom. Her breasts were as generous as her mothers, and she took a strip of fabric from her mending pile, and wrapped it around her body, binding her bosom tightly to her chest, flattening herself so that the two shirts she wore made her look more like a stocky youth than a girl. Lastly, she twisted her hair into a knot, bound it with string, and stuffed it into a cap she’d picked up from the ground during a faire last summer. She peered into her mirror. Still her face was pale; taking a sliver of burnt wood from her fireplace, she lightly smudged her face as if she were a dirty urchin. The sun was past its zenith now, and she knew her parents would be taking tea as they met with the advisers who were assisting with the wedding preparations.  Sliding out her bedroom window was an old practice, and she climbed carefully down the gingerbreading, reaching the trellis one floor below her. Slipping, her heart raced for a moment, as she gripped the thin slats with white knuckles.

That’d been close!

Catching her breath, she continued down to the ground, and ran to the stables. There was her old friend Henry. He shook his head at her. “This ain ta good idea ‘o yerhigness,” he said, his face frowning.

“Just a quick trip, dear Henry! I promise. Soon I’ll be wed and bedded, and on my way to being a stuffy old queen! I’ll take one of the painted ponies, and be back by sundown, I promise.”

Henry didn’t like the way this was headed- it was always the low man on the post who got the shit on his face, after all. Still, the princess was The Princess…and he couldn’t defy her, either. It was a sticky problem, which she solved by grabbing some light tack and saddling up Sandy.

“Now princess,” Henry began, “you know Sandy doan like the bit none too much…”

“Nonsense. She’ll be fine. Promise!” Quickly the princess finished saddling the small horse, and mounting, blew a quick kiss at the befuddled older man.

It doesn’t sound like a wise plan to me, either. But again, I’m only reading the tale to you, so you’ll just have to shake your head and wonder about these two.

Incidentally, neither of them happened to know about the Very Big Rainstorm that was headed their way. You don’t either, come to think of that. Ah well, that’s part of tomorrow’s chapter. For now, begone, for I’m tired and need some milk.

The Princess and the Pe(nis)

Once upon a time…

in a land far and away ago, there lived a King. He and his wife had many children, for they were fond of playing in their bed, with the expected results.

Their oldest child, a son, grew from babe-in-arms, to rambunctious toddler, to exploring youth under the watchful, and somewhat doting, eyes of his parents. Fecundity was only one of his mothers unforseen ‘talents’ – she was constantly randy, a trait that bred true in her eldest child.

Thankfully, no offspring occurred from his dalliances far and about the kingdom. He was a kind and generous lover, and many sighed and hoped that they would be the one to bear a royal bastard, for the prestige of it, or perhaps catch his eye long enough to marry.

Alas, for the maidens of the great kingdom, the lad was always careful about his seed, and his parents had already told him that he would marry only a princess.

His greatest fear was the Princess of Barvaria, as she was as homely a lass as could be, or so rumor had it. He had heard that her face was as long as his pony’s, that her teeth were as large; her hair was scraggled like a lion with mange, and bright red as well. It was rumored that her eyes were two different colors. She never made public appearances for the poor brute was simply too ugly.

Yet he knew his parents corresponded regularly with Princess Margaret’s parents. They’d gone to visit them on several occasions, leaving the royal brood at home.  They spoke often and fondly of the Princess and her family, his mother often tut-tutting as there was only the one daughter, the one son.

Then came the day he dreaded.

“My son,” began his father, rubbing his cheeks and tugging  on the short beard he’d been growing, after losing a wager with his mother, “You have come of age, and are ready to take a wife. Your mother and I have planned for you and our dearest friends daughter to wed later this year.”

Such arranged marriages were the done thing at the time, don’t look at me that way. I’m only telling the story, not making it up as I go along, you know!

The prince’s heart sank. He hated to disappoint his parents, whom he loved dearly. But he couldn’t wed the princess. Why, he’d be shackled forever to her, and how could he fall in love with an ugly ducking such as Princess Margaret?

Hush…that’s another story for another day. Could you focus, please?

“Father,” begged the Prince, “Please, don’t make me marry! I’m too young, and not ready to settle yet.”

His father knew his son’s unspoken concern. With a hidden smile he replied “Son, you are 20 and 4 winters now. It is time for you to wed, to bed, and to bring me a grandchild! I long for a babe to dandle on my knee.”

“FATHER! You and mother have 15 children. Elise has babies. Dandle one of them!”

“My heir needs an heir. It is the way it is done in our family, my son. It is time for you to wed. There is no more conversation regarding this.”

The king turned from his son, and winked at his wife. He thought he’d handled the entire affair with aplomb, actually.

The prince, well, he was disconsolate, and spent the rest of the day casting his seed throughout the kingdom. He fucked any willing milkmaid, farm girl, apprentice, and chambermaid, hoping that one of them would “catch”. Perhaps the embarrassment of a by-blow would prevent Princess Margaret from saying her vows with him!


Princess Margaret had the first royal tantrum of her life. She was, by nature, a biddable lass. Her parents loved her, spoiled her a bit, but it had never made her a brat. She had been kept out of the limelight, preferring her books to royal duties. Her older brother would be king, after all, and she knew that one day she’d grow up, and build her own library.

She planned to fill it with books from the world over, making it a center of great learning for all to come to, men OR women. She’d keep it open all the time, for one never knew when the urge to read a good book, or seek the answer to a plaguing question would occur! Why, she had puzzled all weekend on the matter of stars, and had to wait until her brother, out and about in the kingdom on his latest royal tour,  was returned home,  so that he could accompany her to the library. That place was “only for men” if one could believe that. At long last Alex had returned and she’d glared at the Librarian as he’d signed the book out- to her brother- and passed it across the counter to him.

“This sort of book is not for you, princess or no,” he’d said, his voice gruff and dark. “You need recipes, go ask your kitchen matron.” With that, the rude man had turned his back on the pair of them.

“I’m telling Papa that this troll doesn’t want me to learn,” she’d hissed loudly at Alex, who’d only laughed and ruffled her hair. Copper curls dancing around her face, she’d turned back and, unable to resist the urge, had stuck her tongue out. Of course the troll had turned and seen it, and muttered a terse “brat” under his breath, though loud enough for her to hear him.

She turned her back on him, and tugging the book from Alex, had run all the way back to the palace, curling up in her favorite chair to begin reading. That was when she had overheard the voices of her parents, her father sounding as if he were soothing her Mum, and her mother, obviously sniffling in some distress.

“It is time, beloved. She is old enough. This will cement our friendship and our borders. For our lifetime and hers this land will be safe-and strongly united- with our neighbors.”

“B-but…it was only yesterday that she was climbing tree’s and running through the halls of the palace and sliding down the banisters…”

There was a sound of “there, there, my darling” and the rustle of clothing. She hoped that they weren’t kissing. Again. Gods…parents. So gross!

She was curious. How was she going to cement their neighbors? Were they going to let her build her library, at last? Jumping up, she moved to the doorway, but heard nothing. Opening the door, she stepped through, seeing her Father, holding Mother, locked in a torrid kiss. She blinked, somewhat shocked to see her mother’s breast in her father’s hand, her mothers leg, still covered in a voluminous skirt, wrapped around her father’s thigh.

She cleared her throat, and they broke apart, looking a bit flushed. She had read some of those sort of tales as well, and understood that her parents were thinking about …the penetration of cock and womanfolds.


Messy, gross, and so inappropriate for her parents to be doing that here. 

“Daughter,” her father said in his overly jovial voice, that belied her mothers obvious embarrassment. She had turned away, tucking her breast back into her bodice, as her father stood, amused, looking at them both.

“You two are …” she was, for once, at a loss for words.

“We two are,” her father said, still smiling, “very much in love with one another…and your mother has a beautiful body that I cannot resist touching.”

“Father!” Margaret blushed.

“What, little girl? You should not make assumptions of that which you do not understand. Someday, you too may be interrupted, in some state of disarray, by your own daughter…or son.”

“Eww.” Red-faced, she tried to not smile at her father, but his grin was hard to resist.

“This is an excellent time to break the news to you. Our friends, and neighbors, King Leopold and his wife Margaret, who you were named for, my darling, and your mother and I, have agreed it is time for you and their son, Prince Leo,  to wed.”

“Wh-aaaaa-t?” Screeched Margaret. “Are you kidding? Are you out of your minds?” 

“Daughter!” her mother admonished her, shocking them both.

“I will NOT marry that randy spawn of YOUR friends. NEVER!”

Turning, the princess ran from the room, and had the royal fit of her lifetime.

Yes, I know you want more. And of course there is more. But I grow thirsty and need a nap. Do return on the morrow.