THE FAIR PRINCESS AND THE HOODED MYSTIC
By Dawn R
Author's Note: In my twenties, I read and enjoyed The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice, writing as A.N. Roquelaure. As I started to write this fairy tale, I realized that with my tongue firmly in my cheek I was mining from the same vein of gold. Enjoy!
Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a fair princess called Philomena Victoriana Gloriana Mud. Like many royal families, they had in a time even longer ago run a remarkably successful protection racket, which resulted in their owning all the land therefore earning the right to call themselves royalty. But throughout the embittered population their name was Mud.
Her elder brother took to calling her Philly and made a neighing sound whenever he was around her. The then three-year-old princess struggled with the pronunciation of her name and eventually decided she'd rather just be called Philme (as in filmy), which sounded rather cute. Her father, the king, had died a year ago, and now the kingdom was ruled by her mother, Intoxica.
Her mother ruled with an iron fist and established a new moral code as an absolute law. No sex before marriage and no completed coitus after two children had been born to a family. Married couples might still continue to enjoy a little heavy petting, but heaven forefend they should get carried away. You might believe this would be hard to monitor, but as all the people lived in houses made of the clearest glass, the police, known colloquially, as the Peepers had little trouble enforcing it. Oh, and the penalties for offenders were unspeakable and indescribable; so, we shall neither speak of them nor try to describe them. Oh, and one more rule, you may only enter by the front door, and everyone knew exactly what that meant.
Although the royal apartments were not made of glass (rank brings some privileges), the princess was closely chaperoned by her governess, an aged lady in waiting, who did not believe in the benefits of the young getting sex education. Indeed, it is highly probable she had never had any, either theoretical or practical, herself.
As it happened fourteen days after Philme's eighteenth birthday (note she is now over eighteen), the poor governess died. Being of a practical disposition the princess cut her up and fed her to her cats. Well, not all at once, little bits at a time, while she kept the rest in the icebox.
As Intoxica, who had her own wing of the castle and took no interest in her child trusted everything to the governess, the princess now found herself with a great deal of freedom. "What about her elder brother, the heir to the throne?" you ask. Well, unfortunately he had died of a surfeit of lampreys, when he was only fifteen. This was a not uncommon malady among the royalty in those days. So, our princess is actually the heir to the throne, which she will inherit when her ever-caring mama dies.
Having exercised her new-found freedom to binge-watch everything of interest to an eighteen-year-old on TV, the princess at last left her room to wander the hallways of her wing of the castle. Opening a door, she had not opened before, she found herself looking into a broom closet. What was more interesting was the fact that there were two people inside, a comely youth not much older than herself and a serving-wench possibly five years or so older on her knees sucking on his...thingummy.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
The startled youth was speechless, but the wench rose to her feet and said, "His penis is very swollen, your Highness, and I was trying to ease his discomfort."
"No need to be so ceremonial, just say, milady, when you address me." said the down-to-earth princess.
Now the princess was not totally familiar with the word penis, but it did seem his thingum was indeed very swollen and it was sticking upright from his hose. "Perhaps if you could help me, milady, it would soon be cured. Now, although the princess was spoiled rotten, she had a generous heart and was always willing to learn new skills in a good cause. "Show me how." She commanded.
The wench helped her to kneel and place her hands around the young man's thingum. It was indeed very hot to her touch and she sincerely hoped it was not infectious, but braving all, she took it in her mouth and began at the wench's urging to suck on it vigorously. The sensation on her lips was quite pleasant and the youth began thrusting eagerly towards her with moans of obvious discomfort. All too quickly her mouth was filled with a stream of creamy liquid, which she quickly spat on the floor.
"Well done, milady. I think you have brought him much relief. No need to spit so hard, his emission will not hurt you."
"Thank you, thankyou!" breathed the young man.
"See the swelling is going down as we speak. You have done well, milady."
The princess felt quite proud of herself, as she rolled the interesting flavour around in her mouth.
"What is your name?" She asked the serving-wench.
"Destiny" lied the wench, using a name she used in her occasional evening employment.
"What a lovely name!" said the princess. "I am in need of a chief lady-in-waiting and I would be pleased if you would accept the position." She continued politely.
"It would be my honour and pleasure, milady."
The princess wondered meanwhile, if anyone would ever hear of her good deed and was suddenly ashamed at such a selfish thought.