Fairytale - Rumpelstiltskin

The Miller said to the village Cooper, "Did you know that my lovely daughter Treasure can spin straw into gold?"

Cooper spat into the yard. "Do you know the boldest thing on God's green earth?"

The Miller shook his head.

"Your shirt. It clasps a thief by the throat daily. Now take the barrel and go on out of my shop. You're scaring away my custom. I've paid enough for my ground wheat that you can give me that courtesy, at least."

As he sat in the alehouse that evening the Miller said to the alewife, "Did you know that my lovely daughter Treasure can spin straw into gold?"

The Alewife laughed. "Get you another, Miller? Or have you had enough tonight?"

As he pissed against the post that marked the village green, he asked the soldiers passing along the road behind him, "Did you know that my lovely daughter Treasure can spin straw into gold?"

"Go home, you souse-pot, you're roaring drunk," one soldier yelled.

The other called, "Go sleep it off, and perhaps that lovely daughter of yours won't wake you at dawn with a bucket o' water to sober you up!"

A few days later, however, the soldiers were back, the two that had heard his drunken boasts and two others with them.

"Rumor's reached the lord hereabouts that the Miller's daughter can spin straw into gold," one of the armored men said as they stood together outside the mill, beneath the tattered sails that creaked in the midday sunlight and soft breeze. "Now I heard that boast myself, and you were soused and beyond soused. Say it sober, if it's true, and let these men hear it."

The Miller licked his lips and looked between the four men. "And if it was drunk-talk?" he asked timorously.

"Then we have the right to imprison you for perfidy and drunken lies," the tallest of the soldiers said, stepping forward with a pair of manacles. "There ain't no ale in them cells."

The Miller chuckled shrilly. "Then I suppose it's a good thing it's true, eh, gents? My beautiful girl Treasure can do just as I say, and spin straw into gold! Such a sweet thing she is! Treasure, sweet, c'mon out here!"

A young girl stepped out of the mill, pulling a kerchief from her long dark hair. Her cheeks were dusted with flour, and her hands and apron were white with it, but beneath the smudges they could see she was indeed quite comely.

One soldier licked his lips, and a second murmured, "A sweet morsel indeed."

"I presume the King's interested in my Treasure," the Miller said jovially, pushing the girl into the ring of men. "Of course, it'll be a hardship to me to lose my only girl."

"You mean to lose your golden treasure," the shortest soldier spat. "Millers are all greedy bastards; the gold she makes must be worth more to you than the girl herself."

"I'll sore miss my Treasure," the Miller protested. "If the King's to take such richness, then surely a sack of coins - gold and silver, mind, none of them coppers - is little enough to ask in return!"

"Ha!" one of the men scoffed. "Sure, and we give you our earnings, and you give us a girl that can only spin wool into thread, and then where are we? Out twenty coins, more than a week's wage apiece? Not a bargain I'd make, drunk or sober!"

"You don't have to be drunk to be a fool," the Miller shot back. "If I cheat you, you've got a lovely girl on your hands, one certainly worth more than a mere twenty coins. If she worked on her back to earn her keep, she'd be worth two coins each visit; if each of you take her each evening, then in less than a week, you've recouped your losses. But mind, that's only if I've lied. The gold magic is particular. If you want the King to be happy with her, you might do well to wait."

At her father's words, Treasure hung her head and wept, her shoulders bowing.

The men looked to one another, then to the Miller. "You're a hard man," the tallest one said.

"I'm a Miller. I drive a hard bargain, and always get what I want."

The soldiers pushed Treasure up into the bed of the wagon, three of them followed her, and the fourth, the tallest, climbed up onto the seat. They leaned together, pooling their coin. They filled a small sack torn from some old cloth at the bottom of the wagon, tied it off, and tossed it to the Miller. He caught it, and without a look back over his shoulder, strode into the mill.

Before the old mill was out of sight, one of the soldiers had begun unlacing his trews. Another pulled off his corselet of mail and dropped it with a hissing-thump onto the wagon-bed.

"Sweet, indeed. I'll take some Treasure. And I'll even give you some of mine, if you're a good girl."

The girl protested, pushing them away, trying to crawl over the side of the wagon, only to be pulled back in again. As one of them hiked up her skirts and two others pulled on her ankles, she gasped, desperately, "The gold magic will only work if I remain pure, unmolested. You can't do this to me."

"You know," one of the men said to the others, "I'm beginning to think that perhaps this one's worth the price after all, never mind that whole gold story. I think we can get our money's worth from her without too much difficulty. I like the feisty ones."

"And what happens when the King hears that you've taken away my gold magic with your lusts? Don't you think you'll be punished? Surely there are other feisty whores that can satisfy you. On the other hand, if you bring me to the King unharmed and I give him all the gold he could want, do you not think he'll remember it was you who brought him this treasure? Don't you think you could be rewarded beyond your dreams?"

Grumbling, the men re-donned their armor, straightened their clothes, and helped pluck the hay from her hair and homespun gown. "We can always find you later, if it turns out you're lying," said the soldier who liked feisty women.

They arrived at the castle and brought her into the throne room. The King was a tall, lean man, his dark hair greying, but into steel, not softness.

"What is this?" the King demanded, and the guards knelt before him. Treasure knelt as well, hoping to win the King's sympathy, if such a hard-looking man could have such feelings.

"Sire, we've brought you the girl who can spin straw into gold."

"Indeed. Prepare one of the large cells for her in the dungeon. Make sure it's cleaned, and stock it with a spinning wheel, a bale of straw, and a bucket to see to her other needs. You will be given a bed, girl, only after you've proven yourself. Oh, and a torch, but make sure it's high enough out of reach that there won't be any danger of a fire. If you do not produce a bale of gold by morning, you will be returned to the soldiers who brought you. Once they're finished, you will be taken to a whorehouse, where you will spend the remainder of your days. Your wages will come to me as recompense for the gold promised but not delivered."

Before she could say anything, Treasure was pulled upright and herded down to the dungeon. Outside, just before they descended the stairway into the ground, she saw the sun setting in vibrant crimsons and golds, oranges and pinks and greys, and she wondered if she would ever see the open sky again.

She waited for the soldiers to depart and for the heavy iron door to bang shut before she wept, wretchedly and without hope.

"Why do you cry so, sweet flower?" crooned a sly voice, and Treasure looked up in alarm. Before her stood a dwarf, an ugly, misshapen creature with a large head and bandy-legs. The obscene bulge at the front of his trews made her think of what the soldiers had wanted from her.

"My father is a horrible man. He spread the lie that I can spin straw into gold, and the King has ordered that I do so, or he will let his men rape me and then give me to a whorehouse. But what they ask of me is impossible. No one can spin straw into gold!"

"Ahh," sighed the dwarf. "That is indeed a terrible dilemma, so tragic for such a sweet flower. Tell me, maiden, what price for a miracle? For I can indeed spin straw into gold, and would help you in your troubles, but only if you promise me something in return."

"Anything!" Treasure cried, falling to her knees and clasping her hands. "Name it, and it is yours, only save me from this wretched fate!"

"I want your child, your first-born."

Treasure blanched, but drew in a deep breath and nodded, her eyes closed. "Very well."

She didn't see the way the dwarf watched her bosom appreciatively, or how he licked his lips and adjusted the bulge in his trews with a satisfied smirk.

Clambering up onto the stool of the spinning wheel, he ordered her to bring him the straw, braided together as skeins of wool would be. She helped him feed it into the machine, and he kicked at the treadle, thump, thump, thump against the hard stone floor. Late in the night or terribly early in the morning, she gave him the last of the straw, and coiled the shimmering gold upon the floor.

"Thank you," she gasped in relief and exhaustion, but there was no answer. The dwarf was gone. She fell into the gold as onto a bed, and slept the sleep of exhaustion.

The King woke with the sun the next morning. It took him only a moment to remember why he was excited for the day, and he leapt from his bed. Throwing on his dressing robe, he flew downstairs, through the sleepy castle, and down to the dungeons. He took the key from the guard, told the man to wait at the top of the stairs, and crept down to the girl's cell. Pulling the door open, he was momentarily blinded as light from the torch flared against something incredibly bright. Blinking, he saw that it was a mound of gold, the size of a bale of straw. Draped upon it was the girl. Pulling the door shut behind him, he approached her, delight and desire rising within him. He'd seen what a pretty thing she was yesterday when his men had brought her in.

He discarded his robe and straddled her, grabbing the hem of her worn gown and hoisting it up to bare her thighs and pale ass. She woke with a start, gasping with surprise at his presence, then tried to crawl away, but he put a firm hand on her lower back and pushed her down into the gold again.

"Shh, my sweet golden whore. You have pleased me greatly. Now accept your reward." Abruptly he released his hold on her, and as she rose to her hands and knees, he wrapped his arms around her, one around her chest, grasping her breast through the thin fabric of her shirt, the other pushing away her skirts to bare her to him. He pulled her back against his strong chest and fondled her. "Come, my sweet little whore. Please your King again." He pulled her legs apart and began to thrust his fingers into her, drawing out beads of moisture from deep within.

"Please, Sire, no, stop," the girl begged. "Please, my lord, I don't... I can't..." Recalling the threat yesterday that had gotten the soldiers to leave her alone, Treasure gasped frantically, "Sire, the gold magic will not work if I am forced! If you tear my maidenhead, the magic will go away forever!"

"You're too wet to cry rape, sweet," he panted, thrusting his fingers still deeper. On the next thrust, he added a fourth finger, his thumb flicking over her clit. "And by the feel of things, that maidenhead's long gone, so no fear of tearing that! Besides, being fucked by a King isn't rape, it's a reward, and a privilege. But you lied to me, so it'll be a punishment too. On your hands and knees, my golden whore, and if you refuse me, I'll sell you to that brothel like I promised yesterday."

Weeping, Treasure pushed herself against the floor, staring at the ribbons of gold bright against the worn stone, and did as he bid her. Holding her folds open with one hand the King thrust himself into her and began to stroke in and out, his hips slapping against her ass, his prick long and hard, deep within her.

Months ago, there had been a shepherd who had wooed her with sweet words and empty promises, but he'd been the only one to have her, and only the once. She groaned as she felt her body stretching to accommodate the King's girth. Then suddenly he pulled out of her. Her knees felt shaky, but she forced herself to remain still, terrified that he would say she'd refused him, and send her to the whorehouse.

Then she felt something pushing against the bud of her ass. She gasped, moaned, and nearly fell to the floor as she felt the tip of his prick forcing its way inside her.

"Never been taken this way, have you, whore?" the King demanded, his voice hoarse as he pushed against her. "So I'll take your virgin ass, but there's no maidenhead there, so that gold magic had better still work."

Deeper and deeper he sank, now holding her up as the strength left her. "God, but you're tight. What a treat. What a treasure you are, my little whore." At first slowly, and then more quickly he stroked in and out of her ass.

"Come with me," he panted into her ear as he pounded into her. "Come on, show me that you like it, my sweet." One hand delved once more into her folds, and he began to flick her clit and thrust his fingers in and out of her. She screamed and bucked against him as she felt his fingers taking her, deep enough to brush his prick through the thin barrier.

"Come," he commanded, and she did, squealing and gasping against him as he emptied his seed into her belly.

When at last he started to soften, he pulled out of her, letting her collapse back to the floor.

"I'll send a servant with some water so you can clean up. They'll collect the gold, and tonight you'll spin two bales of straw, yes? Or you'll go to the whorehouse. You'd do well there, certain enough, but I'm not sure all the men will be as skilled as I am, and you may enjoy yourself less."

"May I... May I please be allowed to go outside, and breathe fresh air before I am locked down here again?" Treasure asked, knowing she was damned no matter what, so she may as well ask.

"Spin the straw for me, sweet, and you will be given a still grater reward. You will marry my son the prince, and become the princess of this great realm. Only stay in this cell a couple of days longer."

Treasure knew there was no use arguing. She would marry the prince, and become his playing - and possibly the plaything of his father, if the King still desired her - or else she would end up as a whore for far more than the two royals. She nodded.

The bucket of water and scrap of cloth was delivered as promised, along with a platter of cold meats, a chunk of cheese, and some bread. The gold was taken away, and she was left alone for the day. She thought about the child she had promised to the dwarf. Perhaps the Prince - once they were married - would help her find a way to pay off the ugly creature and keep their child. Perhaps having a son or daughter to care for would make her life less miserable in an unwanted marriage.

That evening, two bales of gold were delivered as promised, and after the guards had disappeared, she called softly into the silence, "Dwarf? Magical dwarf? Will you spin this straw into gold for me, as you did last night?"

"Again? You ask more of me still, sweet flower?"

She turned to find the hunched little man behind her, in the center of the room.

"Please, good dwarf. Surely a child is worth far more than a single bale of gold. So many years you'd have the child before it grew... And is three not a magic number? I cannot say for certain that the King will demand more gold from me, but if he knows the old magics, then he should know that more than thrice is forbidden."

"You make a persuasive argument, sweet flower. Very well, I will indeed spin the straw tonight, and if need be, one more time as well. And you will give me your child, yes?"

"My firstborn child, as I promised. And thank you."

Once more the dwarf smiled his lecherous smirk and clambered onto the stool. Once more Treasure began twisting together pieces of straw and feeding them into the spinning wheel.