Do they (fairytales) tug at yours as well? Do they inspire you to write or photograph something erotic and sensual, moody and dark, terrifying and creepy?
This week’s Wicked Wednesday challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to take a fairytale of your choosing and turn it into a piece of erotica. You can write a story, a snippet or a piece of poetry; or take a photo that you feel emphasizes an erotic element of a fairytale.
A king’s son was sitting next to the love of his life when he received the news that his father was gravely ill. He wanted to see his father once more before his end. He told his love that he had to go and gave her a ring to remember him by. He promised to come back for her. The son was so sad to see his father die, that he promised to grant the king one wish: to marry another king’s daughter. In his distress, the son didn’t think clearly. He promised to do his father’s will only moments before the king shut his eyes and died.
As happen in these things, the son was not alone with the king when he made his promise. So when the time for mourning was over, he was forced to keep his promise. He asked the daughter of the other king to marry him. The word spread and his first love heard about his faithlessness. She nearly died of sadness. Her father wanted to know why she was so sad and said he would give her whatever she wanted if only she would get better again.
“I want eleven young women who look exactly like me, who resemble me in face, figure and size.”
Her father set out to find the girls, and he did.
She dressed the eleven girls in huntsmen’s clothes and she herself dressed the same as them. They rode out to the new king’s castle – to the man she still loved so much – and when they arrived she asked him whether he would take all of them into his service. The king looked at her and felt something stir deep in his pants. He was appalled as he had never before been attracted to another man. He wanted to explore these feelings further and agreed to take the twelve handsome huntsmen into his service.
The king’s confidant had observed the huntsmen and informed the king that they are not men, but young women. The king didn’t want to believe him and asked the confidant to proof it.
“Just send them some beautiful dresses. Women love beautiful clothes and they will betray themselves when they accept the gift.”
The king ordered that the dresses be sent, but one of the servants who brought in drinks while the king and his confidant were talking, warned the huntsmen about this plan. The huntsmen were always kind to this servant and he didn’t want them to be harmed by the king or his confidant.
When the dresses were delivered, the main huntsman – the king’s first love – shrugged and said that the delivery man must have misunderstood the king.
The king wasn’t happy with his confidant, but the confidant ensured them that they must have been warned by someone. Neither the king nor the confidant thought about the servant. Another plan was made and again the huntsmen were warned. Again the plan failed and again the king was unhappy with his confidant.
“I have another plan,” the confidant told the king when they were walking outside in the gardens. No one overheard them.
The next day the huntsmen were invited to a party. No one ever refused the invitation of the king and the huntsmen knew they shouldn’t be the first. A week later they went to the king’s castle, dressed in their best huntsmen suits. Upon entering the huge ballroom, they saw only men. The king, his confidant, other people in the king’s service and several other male friends of the king. They were taken aback for a moment, but straightened their backs and each with a drink in their hands, started to talk to some of the other men. The king’s beloved started relaxing, confident that she would get through the evening, when the doors to the ballroom opened and in came ten scarcely dressed women. Suddenly it was clear that they were invited to one of the king’s sex parties.
The women paraded towards the king and one by one the king felt their breasts and turned them around to feel their bottoms. The king smacked each woman once on her bottom. All the while the confidant kept an eye on the king’s beloved, who tried to look indifferent, but she couldn’t keep the blush off her face. Unthinking, she moved her hand to her breast while her eyes were fixated on the king. She had heard how these parties went. The king would get naked first, fuck one of the women and then the rest of the men were allowed to join in. But each woman was to be fucked by the king first.
As the king started to unbutton his shirt, his beloved was drawn closer to him. She had totally forgotten about the other people in the room. She only saw the king. He reached the last button on his shirt the moment she stopped in front of him. The king felt the same stirring in his pants that he did on the day he first met this huntsman. The huntsman pushed his shirt off his shoulders and started to unbutton his pants. The king reached for the button’s on the huntsman’s clothes and quickly unbuttoned it, stopped and stared when he saw breasts instead of a man’s chest. The huntsman smiled at him, reached behind her head and lowered her hair. The king just stared at her and couldn’t understand how he had been deceived like this; how he did not recognize his beloved.
At the moment that he turned her around – naked – and fucked her over the table, the king’s daughter who he was supposed to marry, barged into the ballroom. There were naked bodies all over. She shrieked, turned around and ran out of the palace. After a night of fucking and fun – the king and his beloved retreated to his quarters while the rest were still enjoying a fuck fest – the king declared that he would marry his first love.
And they lived happily ever after…
PS: Word had it that the other 11 huntsmen stayed in service of the king and the new queen and there were more sex parties in the palace than ever before.
Author’s note: I tried my best to corrupt a fairytale. How did I do this? I called up a list of fairytales and then started reading some of them. When I came across The Twelve Huntsmen, I copied the text, pasted it in my writing program and started rewriting – and hopefully corrupting – the story.
© Rebel’s Notes
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