Cinderella

The court, the village and, most of all, Cinderella’s stepmother and stepdaughters listened with disbelief and merriment to her account. And when they finished they broke into great laughter.

“You slut! You fucking lying whore!” exclaimed the stepmother. “I shall beat you within an inch of your life for your lies.”

“And I shall force you not only to drink my piss, but to eat my shit!” agreed Ursula.

“And then you will needs apply your tongue to all our cunts to ask our forgiveness, you sow’s cunt!” Ermintrude added.

“Hold, ladies!” the King commanded. “There may be truth in this wench’s remarks. It is certainly worth investigating. I wish to fuck this maiden. And I wish to fuck her now.”

And the truth of his assertion was there to see in the erect penis beneath his overhanging belly and proud against the velvet of his throne.

“I beseech you, your Royal Majesty,” said an evidently worried stepmother. “Cinderella is just a slut of the lowest order. Her cunt has only been visited by swine and ass, her face only fit for pissing on and her flesh meet only for the caresses of fists and whips.”

“My mind is made up!” the king announced.

He stood up in front of the prostrate Cinderella, offered her an open palm and lifted her to her feet.

“Now, dear wench, we shall proceed to the royal rugs where I shall fuck you and we shall discover whether it was indeed you who I fucked on that day.”

“Gladly, your Royal Majesty,” replied Cinderella, who at this moment looked more happy and radiant than any man or woman in the village had ever seen her before.

It was to the horror of Cinderella’s stepfamily, the disbelief of the King’s court and the incredulity of the village that the fucking when it commenced between the King and this previously little regarded wench was quite clearly of a nature never before witnessed in the realm. The intensity of the passion, the ecstasy apparent in Cinderella’s many orgasms, the tirelessness of the King’s thrusts: these were all of an order that none had believed possible. The court was speechless, for once not chattering and smirking as the King’s arse commenced its habitual thrusting. The penises of the village men pressed hard against the fabric of their tunics, whilst the women felt a moistness between their legs engendered from witnessing such unbridled lust they were eager to requite as soon as they could. And Cinderella’s stepsisters became more miserable than they had ever been before.

But most discomfited of all was Cinderella’s stepmother, whose face expressed utter dismay. She sat on the ground between her stepsisters, still disrobed after their recent fucking, angry tears squeezing from her eyes and trickling over her pudgy cheeks.

There could have been no wandering traveller or labouring peasant within many leagues who did not hear Cinderella’s coital cries of ecstasy and the almost as loud cries of joy from their regal ruler, not ashamed to give vent to many profanities in the declaration of his pleasure. The deer in the forest were startled and stood still, their ears twitching in wonder. The wolves and bears were themselves too stunned to take advantage of their prey’s inertia.

And for so long, for hours of thrusting, the King’s balls replenished so soon that after releasing his semen deep within Cinderella’s cunt, then up again the King’s member did rise, ready again for more thrusts within the moist welcome caresses of the serving wench’s hole. And Cinderella’s legs clasped around the King’s thighs and buttocks so tightly that an ox would be needed to part the pair from their amorous coupling.

At last, with the sun dipping in the sky, the bodies of the King and Cinderella parted and the two lay on their backs, panting with their exertion, faces to the sky, while the whole village and the King’s court burst into a spontaneous applause. No one had ever seen conjugal trysting of such a degree before.

“In God’s truth, you are the one!” the King told Cinderella.

And then to the court, the village and the realm, the King announced. “I have found the one who shall now be my Principal Concubine. She will take the crown as Royal Courtesan and the wench who currently has that honour will become once again the mere whore she once was.”

“But your Royal Majesty,” wondered the King’s chancellor, standing by his side with a cloak to cover the regal flesh. “How can you be so sure?”

“It is the wench’s tale of a Fairy Godmother. Only one of regal blood and pure inheritance is honoured with a Fairy Godmother. It is one of the lesser known privileges of my station.”

The King addressed Cinderella, who was now on her knees, her long blonde hair plastered to her hot sweaty body. “Tell me, sweet damsel, did this Fairy Godmother have blue hair and green eyes?”

“She did, your Royal Majesty. And she was most pleasing plump as well!”

“By Jove! She is the same Fairy Godmother as that bestowed on me!”

The King strode towards Cinderella’s stepmother who knelt between her daughters, looking most humble and miserable.

“Madam! You have some explaining to do.”

The stepmother nodded. She gazed up at the King.

“Cinderella is your daughter, your Royal Majesty.”

“My daughter?”

“Your bastard daughter. Not the legitimate daughter of your Queens’ labour. She was the result of a trysting between your Royal Majesty and the first wife of my late husband, may his soul rest in peace.”

“My bastard daughter? And where is the woman who is the mother of this child?”

“She died in childbirth. Only your daughter survived, brought up but much despised by my late husband who blamed her for the death of his first wife.”

“So, Cinderella is my daughter. This is good news. It is known that the most passionate love a monarch can have is with similarly royal blood. Indeed, the smaller the degree of consanguinity the more passionate the coupling.”

And from this moment, the life of Cinderella was indeed such that she lived happily ever after. In fact, she happily enjoyed many more passionate couplings with the King and endowed him with many bastard children, more even than his legitimate offspring, and predeceased the King, her father and lover, by several years, the victim herself of a tragic childbirth, the issue of which was the Black Prince who in later years caused so much grief to the realm.

But that is another tale.

All lived happily ever after, that is, except for Cinderella’s stepfamily. On learning of the extent of his daughter’s misery over the years, as later confessed in the connubial bed, the King ordained that her stepmother should be clapped in irons and spend the rest of her years chained to a hog sty. And her two stepsisters were sold as whores to Pagan merchants where they would end their days in sodomy and suffering.

And for many generations, the people of Cinderella’s village would recount and many a wandering troubadour sing of the tale of the King’s coupling with sweet Cinderella.