Once upon a time...
Oh, please. Most stories I know start out that way and end up with some poor damsel in distress being rescued by some male chauvinist idiot in shining armor. And living happily ever after? I don't call living in a drafty castle with a bunch of royal rug rats running after me, and a paunchy royal husband who meekly bows to the Queen Bitch of Mothers.
Now, my story...
My story is much, much better.
I call it, "Little Red Cloak".
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Once upon a time, there was a rather plain girl who lived with her domineering Mother and wimp of a father in a huge mansion deep in the woods on the edge of a large lake. The girl grew up quiet as her Mother would talk for hours (and no one dared interrupt her upon Pain of Death), and she loved to sit by the lake and daydream of the day a Great Prince would come and whisk her away from her dreary existence.
Oh, of course everyone knew this would never happen. The girl's sister was quite beautiful, and her brother was brilliant, but she was plain and had way too much imagination. Everyone laughed behind their hands at the girl at the Grand Balls her Mother threw almost every week (her mother had Great Balls), but she learned to ignore them, and just grew quieter.
One thing stood out about the girl--red was her favorite color, and she wrapped herself in it. She dyed her hair a deep red and wore red dresses as often as her mother would allow. She had a great red cloak of thick wool that she wore always except the very hottest days of summer. Many people remarked on her audacity! How dare she wear such a...a bold...color! She should be happy in navies and browns, especially since she would never be married.
Now her Mother ruled with an iron hand, and she never allowed the girl out of her sight for long. The sister was allowed to spend the evenings with many of her royal beaus, and the brother was allowed out with his rowdy friends, but the poor girl was always too busy for such frivolity--someone had to stay in the house and help prepare for the Grand Balls!
So, the Woods were off limits.
But what the Mother didn't know surely wasn't going to hurt her.
In her free time (what little there was), she would wrap herself only in her long, red cloak and run barefoot into the deepest part of the Wood. There she would fling herself down on a pile of damp leaves, throw open the cloak, and soak up whatever sunlight there was into her bare skin. These were the times she loved the most, the birds singing above her, the sunlight streaming down on her, and...
And the things she allowed her hands to do.
As she dreamed of her Great Prince, her hands would rove over her naked body, pinching hard nipples, dipping into the wetness between her spread legs. She would whisper to herself, imagining such a Demanding Prince, telling her, "Touch yourself THERE" or "Open yourself to me". She would stroke That Spot until she shivered and quaked in delight. All too soon, her Mother would be screaming her name (which no one can remember--everyone just called her Red), and she would quickly wrap herself in her cloak once more and scurry back to the Mansion.
Until one day...
The sun was warm overhead as she lay on her pile of fallen leaves. Honeysuckle and jasmine perfumed the air as High Summer Sounds came all around, the cricket and the katydid serenading her. Her red cloak lay underneath her, spread as wide as her legs were. Her green eyes were squeezed shut as her hands worked swiftly over her dripping cunt.
"What have we here?" a shadow fell over her, completely blocking the sun. "A wood Elf, perhaps? Too plain for a nymph." the shadow chuckled deeply.
