Clara And The Nutcracker Prince Ch 01

Clara and her Nutcracker Prince - Part I, Chapter 1

LadyKaren50

This story is an adult re-telling of the holiday favorite ballet "The Nutcracker." But it takes place some 20 years after Clara's first adventure, which is recounted in the ballet. In this story Clara was 18 when she first received the gift of the Nutcracker and had her adventure. But that fantasy trip left loose ends which needed to be resolved, along with various personal issues in Clara's own life. In this story Clara is 38 years old and the entire story is much darker.

Please note: all characters in this story are 18 or older and all events remembered or narrated involve characters that are 18 or older.

The ballet is set in the late 19

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/early 20

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century. In what the follows the story is set after the great war - in the late 1920's, even early 1930's. The location (also like the ballet) is unclear and could be anywhere in Europe or even in the USA.

The structure of the story is taken from the Nutcracker Ballet, opus 71, composed by Peter Illich Tchaikovsky in 1892. The ballet itself was based on a short story, "The Nutcracker and the Mouse King" by the German romantic writer E.T.A. Hoffmann, which was itself later adapted and published in Paris by Alexander Dumas as "The Story of the Nutcracker." The choreographer, Ivan Vsevolozhsky, reworked the two stories into the plot for the ballet. This required that the story be drastically simplified. In fact, almost all of act 2 of the ballet is based on a single paragraph in the Hoffmann and the long series of flashbacks and excursions from the short story were completely eliminated.

My story does not follow the plot as much as it structured like the ballet. If you have read the Hoffmann, you will recognize that I have borrowed a few little details from the original story. But my story goes in a different direction. It is the story of a woman entering her middle age still struggling with ghosts from the past and various obsessions. There are also references to other literary works, some are more obvious than others.

This story includes the following: Exhibitionism, Fetish, Gay Male (in part 2), Lesbian, Incest/Taboo, Mature, NonConsent/Reluctance, NonHuman, Toys & Masturbation and Fantasy. Part I is in two chapters and is published now. Part II will come in the new year.

Finally, I have transformed the mice in the original into nonhuman, magical characters. As always with my stories, I have spent a fair amount of time editing, but I am sure I didn't catch everything. Please forgive any errors.

Lastly, I have included musical references throughout the story. I encourage you, dear reader, to listen to the music from the ballet as you read the story. Near the end Clara begins to sing. I have noted this in the story, but what she is singing is very specific - the women's chorus part in the very last dance in Act 1, which is the Waltz of the Snowflakes. There is no text to the song either in the ballet or in my story.

I hope you enjoy the story.

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Chapter 1 - Memories: The Ghosts of the Past

Christmas Eve

Venite adoramus, venite adoramus

Venite adoramus, dominum!

Clara closed the hymnal before she had even sung the last phrase. She had long ago ceased to believe any of this, but nevertheless occasionally darkened the door of her parish church for one reason only: it was an opportunity to get to see her nieces and nephews, even if she only watched them from afar. Of course, her brother Fritz was long gone. He had been killed in action during the great war. What a waste. Her beloved older brother, who had only two loves in his life - being a soldier and women. Well, he had planted his seed in Martha, a young maid who was working for the family at the time and now the boy was 10 years old and singing in the choir. He looked so angelic in his robe. He also looked just like his father! But Martha was not the only woman who bore Fritz's progeny.

Finally, the service was over. Clara placed the hymnal back in the pew and headed quickly along the side aisle towards the entrance. Up ahead of her she saw her older sister, Louise. Louise was the oldest of the three of them. Now in her 40's she was still beautiful. Her golden locks, her pretty round face with her pouting lips, her voluptuous body, especially her breasts which despite her 4 children and age (mid-40's) still stood proudly on her chest! And, of course, her high-strung temperament. Clara had become convinced that Louise had to be at least half-sister. Neither she nor Fritz looked anything like her. Undoubtably Louise had a different father than she or her sister. Clara watched Louise and her husband with their children scamper past the priest and out into the night. There would be no greeting. Clara and Louise barely spoke, and hadn't done so since Fritz's death.

Clara offered her gloved hand to the priest, made a little curtsey and then was out into the cold countryside air as the parish tower bell chimed 10:00 PM.

Tchaikovsky Nutcracker Ballet - Miniature Overture

It was still relatively early as Clara set out down the path back towards town and her family home. The night was bitter cold, but she was wrapped in her coat and scarf as well as a warm hat. A dusting of snow covered the foliage and the pathway so that she left her footprints on the path where she stepped.

She walked a few paces down the path and was still in view of the church when she heard her name being called, "Clara, Clara. Wait up!"

Clara turned and smiled. "Martha!"

Martha walked over to Clara who moved out of the middle of the path to allow other worshippers to pass her by. "Where's little Fritz?"

"Mary took him on ahead. He needs to get to bed."

Martha looked around quickly and then bent in and gave Clara a quick kiss on the lips.

"Not here!" Clara did not resist but stepped back to discourage any additional attempts at affection.

"Why does it matter? Half of these people are messing around with the other half anyway."

"Decorum! Martha! Decorum! We have to at least pretend we are upstanding and asexual in this culture!"

Martha rolled her eyes but took Clara gloved hand in hers, "Can I see you? I need to be with you. Do you have any plans for Christmas?"

"Of course, I do." Clara stammered.

"Really? What? Are you going to Louise's?"

Clara sighed, "Not likely!"

"Then what?"

Clara paused for a moment, "When do you want to come over?"

"I'll try to come tomorrow evening after supper. Is that ok?"

"Yes." Clara squeezed Martha's hand, "I miss you too!"

Martha looked around quickly and then bent in for another kiss. This time Clara let the kiss linger a bit before breaking it off. "What will people say Martha?"

"That we are both sluts I suppose. But they have been saying that for years, so who cares."

"I am a respectable woman! After all I am the town's librarian." Martha rolled her eyes again, "Tomorrow then. Alone?"

"Yes." Martha suddenly looked over Clara's shoulder, "Well, here comes Louise and she is alone. Time for me to disappear. Till tomorrow."

"Wait," said Clara, "Did you get little Fritz a Christmas tree?"

Martha looked at Clara surprised and incredulous, "With what money? And there won't be many Christmas presents either." Her voice suddenly sounded bitter as she turned on her heel and in an instant was gone.

Clara turned back towards the church and just as Martha as warned, there was Louise heading towards her. In many ways she looked to Clara like an angel from heaven coming towards her with her golden hair blowing in the cold air. "Clara, wait up for a moment."

Clara sighed and then said coldly, "And what do I owe the honor of this audience with her ladyship."

"Drop the attitude for just once please Clara. It's Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas Louise!" She said without any enthusiasm.

"Clara, I'd like you to join us tomorrow for Christmas dinner. Please come! The children would love to have you come over and visit. You haven't spent much time with them at all."

"The children? But what about you and your respectable husband?"

"We want you to come too. Please come. I want us to be friends, please. Besides I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Really? We can talk here."

"No, not here. In private."

Clara sighed in impatience and frustration. "I suspect that whatever it is, it's probably not something I care to talk about so what is this really about Louise? Why the sudden change in attitude. I have never been quite good enough for you and James for a long time now."

"I'm sorry you got that impression. We never meant..."

Clara scoffed, "Besides, what makes you think I don't have other Christmas plans."

"I know what your plans are. You will sit in that big house alone all day indulging your fantasies. Playing with your dolls and your

Prince

and visiting your make-believe places."

Clara could feel the anger building up inside. "Well, there it is. I'm not going to talk to you if you are going to belittle me and treat me like a child." She paused then spoke with feigned politeness, "Lady Gilmore, thank you so much for the invitation, but I have plans." And with a mocking curtsey, she turned on her heel and began to stalk away.

"You are pathetic! I know what you do with those dolls. I know what your fantasies are. I know all the about the games you played and still play. I know how you spied on everyone constantly, learning everyone's secrets even while indulging your own. And I know all about you and Martha."

Clara flushed in anger and turned back, "You're one to talk. How many of Fritz's soldier friends did you fuck in one evening? And it didn't end there, did it? I think you played a lot of your own games. I suspect you still do."

"I have no regrets or shame about the past... or the present." Louise paused and then added softly, "I treasure those memories."

Clara paused and responded wistfully, "As do I."

"They're almost all dead now." Louise looked at Clara with a look which conveyed a deep sense of sadness. The stood silently for a moment as Clara looked away as she felt tears begin to well up.

"Join us tomorrow sister, please?" Louise broke the silence, reached out and took Clara's hand.

Clara could see tears in her sister's eyes as well. She suddenly had the desire to walk over and take Louise in her arms. Instead, she simply slowly pulled her hand away. "Maybe..."

"Well, I guess 'maybe' isn't 'no.' Merry Christmas Clara."

Clara stared at Louise for a few moments more. But just as she felt the tears begin to drip down her own cheeks she turned and walked away leaving Louise standing there. But as soon as Clara's path curved around the bend so that Clara was certain that Louise was no longer visible, her tears began to flow. She stopped and took out her handkerchief to wipe her face and then continued on her way.

Nutcracker, Act 1 - The Christmas Party

Clara still lived in the family home where she had grown up. The large old house had been in the family for a number of years and sat at the far edge of the village. Stewing over her conversation with Louise, Clara headed through town and then began to traverse the residential streets and the dark alleyways which provided some short cuts. Tonight, Christmas Eve, the streets were deserted except for a stray dog or cat.

The family house belonged to Clara. The news about her beloved brother Fritz's death hit their father hard and within a few months the family found itself with another funeral. Her father never was able to move beyond his grief and then died of a sudden heart attack. Clara had been living in an apartment at the time in an adjacent town, but then moved back to the village, secured the position of librarian and spent her time taking care of her mother, who also died then just a few years later. Thus, the house came to Clara. It was now hers. Louise didn't need it and Fritz was dead. She had suggested Martha, her mother's former ladies' maid, might want to live there, but Martha seemed quite happy living with her own sister, Mary. So, Clara and all the ghosts of the past had the large spacious house with lots of rooms and secret passageways all to themselves.

And of all the ghosts that inhabited this old house none was more present than the ghost and spirit of her Uncle Drösselmeyer. A watchmaker by trade, an inventor and spinner of fantasies by avocation, Christian Elias Drösselmeyer, had been an intimate friend to everyone in the family. In fact, he was Clara's Godfather. He had been a short, thin man with a thick head of long hair and he wore an eye patch over his left eye - nobody knew why, perhaps a war wound from his youth. But despite it, he was a handsome man, a brilliant man, a desirable man. All during her childhood it was Uncle D who gave her fantastical gifts and told her exciting fantastic stories. The gifts usually had some kind of mechanism which made them move or talk. At first these gifts were simple, wholesome toys which brought a fair amount of delight; dolls that spoke and moved for Clara and toy soldiers that marched for Fritz. But by the time Clara had turned 18 the gifts changed too. Curiously Uncle D would take older gifts and rebuild them, adding details and functions which made them more unique and realistic, and sexual. For example, the old mechanical dolls suddenly, after their metamorphosis, developed breasts and had genitals, for example, and they were able to kiss and moan and copulate. The toy soldiers sported erections which grew whenever they were played with.

And of all the wonderful erotic gifts, perhaps none was more adored by Clara than her beloved Nutcracker Prince. The mere thought of him caused Clara to feel a wave of arousal course through her body. She paused in the street for a moment as a vision of her Prince went through her mind. Gifted to her on the Christmas following her 18

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birthday and standing tall at 3' high, her Nutcracker had a beautiful sad face and was dressed in a sharp red uniform with epaulets. But the contraption which caused his mouth to move in order to break nuts was now in front for it doubled as his constantly erect penis which Clara delighted in playing with in a variety of ways. Clara shivered and felt a tingle between her legs as she thought of him. Following close behind this image in her mind of her Price was the memory of the fact that she and Uncle D had become very, very close in the few years before Fritz died.

Actually, Clara eventually came to realize that Uncle Drösselmeyer was intimately close with almost the women in her family, especially her mother - but for some reason not with Louise. And not only that but Clara was able to uncover that their relationship had pre-dated her mother's marriage with her father by about 6 years. In fact, it was because of her mother, Marie, that he had moved to this town and set up shop. And they made no secret of their long-standing on-going love affair. And for some reason her father didn't seem to mind sharing his wife with this eccentric clock-maker. Clara even believed that her mother fully expected Uncle D to take care of her, maybe even marry her after her husband died. But instead, he simply disappeared, without saying goodbye. And without any further communication. Clara believed firmly that it was this abandonment by the love of her life that pushed Marie into the depression which preceded her death, even more so than her son's death and definitely more than her husband's death. This abandonment was one of Clara's most painful memories, upon which she constantly obsessed. The man who had loved them both intimately, was gone just like that at the moment when he was needed most. Consequently, his ghost was alive and active in Clara's life and home as the object of both her intense rage and arousal.

Nutcracker, Act 1 - March Into the Past

Suddenly her musings on her life, present and past were interrupted as she heard a rustling behind her. She stopped, turned around and looked. Nothing... No one! She peered into the darkness, but the street lamps were out and all she had for illumination was the moon. For a moment she stood still and listened. Total silence except for the sound of her heartbeat and her breathing which was condensing in the cold air so that Clara could see it. In a moment, she slowly turned back to her path. But as soon as she began to continue her trek, she heard the rustling again.

She stopped, turned around and called out, "Who's there!" She saw a black cat run across the road. "It's the Myce!" She said to herself with a shiver as she continued walking the final steps to her gate.

She opened and closed the gate with a squeak, and walked up to the front door. Opening her purse, she fumbled for the key until she found it. Pulling it out of her purse she went to insert it into the lock.

And there as she looked at the door, she saw a surprising but wondrous sight. The door knocker was suddenly transformed. No longer a simple door knocker but a penis. And not just any penis, an erect penis attached to two large testicles. She gasped. "Uncle Drösselmeyer..." she whispered. It was his cock she was looking at. She had become quite familiar with it over the few years from her 18

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birthday up to when he disappeared. As she stared at it all those familiar feelings of arousal and excitement, as well as the pain and anger of the abandonment began to well up within her; all those feelings that he had engendered in her through the myriad toys her gave her, and through his hands-on instruction.

Startled by the image before her she dropped the key on the snowy steps as she slowly moved her hand towards the erect penis, desiring to take it into her hand and hold it, caress it, pump it as she had so many years before. But as her hand moved closer, the image disappeared and the door knocker returned. "Bah..." She said in disgust and frustration. She bent down, retrieved the key, wiped the now off of it and quickly unlocked the door. She let herself in and then slammed it shut, bolting the door with the multiple locks she had had installed before she stomped her feet on the floor in order to shake of the snow, which due to the cold in the house was not melting but simply sat on the floor in little clumps of white.

The image of Uncle D's cock had unsettled her. She slowly removed her coat, her scarf, her gloves, her hat and her boots. Underneath all of that outerwear she wore a simple long skirt with a loose blouse. Underneath the dress and blouse, she wore nothing, as was her custom. Stepping into her warm slippers she slowly began to ascend the stairway. But as she moved forward she felt anxious, as though she knew someone or something was waiting for her.

She arrived at the first landing, for the second floor and stopped and looked around. The hallway was dark. Several bedrooms opened into this hallway from the one side, while on the other side was an overlook into the large parlor below on the first floor. An ornate railing with beautifully carved oak woodwork ran along the open side.

Clara carefully stepped on to the landing of the 2

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floor and began to walk slowly down the passageway past the bedrooms to her right as she moved slowly towards the stairway to the 3

rd

floor at the far end of the hallway. Firstly, she stepped past first what had been her sister Louise's room. It was the one closest to the stairway to the first floor. Going past Louise's room, she next passed a bathroom and on the other side of the bathroom was another bedroom: the bedroom that had belonged to her brother Fritz. Clara had closed and locked these rooms away long ago leaving all the contents untouched. Nevertheless, she paused in front of Fritz's room to look out over the parlor below. It was illuminated by the moonlight that was streaming through the two large windows that stood on either side of a large fireplace and overlooked the street. She saw nothing unusual, except a glint of light being reflected off the glass face of the Grandfather Clock, which sat against the far wall. This beautiful, fancy clock had been in the family for a very long time. But it had stopped working a number of years ago and since Uncle D was no longer available to fix it, Clara had simply left it unrepaired. Sitting upon the top of the clock stood a rather large sculpted owl with closed eyes. Clara had much experience with this clock and the owl and at times she had felt as if that owl was able to open its eyes and watch her and all the activities taking place in the parlor. But... not tonight. His eyes appeared shut!