Fairy Story Comp.

[Uncle_Ed]

seababy has suggested that we hold our own "write a BDSM Fairy story " competition. An idea, I am proud to say, she had after reading my piece of stupidity "Dom thumb" that it to be found in this section.

As I suppose, sponsor of the comp I guess it falls to me to be judge. I won't enter of course but I shall declare an outright winner.

RULES.

1)I am totally unbiased but will be disqualifying Clout for something, once I can be arsed to think of it.

2)I really like Jack Daniels so if you want to be in with a chance I am open to bribery.

3)Any of you who writes a better story than mine is subject to premature ejection.

4)No poofters!

5)Stories must fit into a post-not be too long.

6)seababy will be declared winner.

7)Female sub entrants will get extra points for describing the school uniform they wear while writing.

8)There will be no prize except the envy and spite of all fellow entrants who will probably never chat or write to you again. So that's worth working for.

9)There is no rule 9.

10)Posting groupies shall be wrapped in brown paper and string and sent to Effingham-2nd class.

So fellow Doms subs Perves Kinkyones males females unreg's trolls and unclassifieds-get yourselves a-writing!

Post your entries here.

[seababy]

I think that sounds fair. :)

[Uncle_Ed]

I wonder why?

[jennyfer]

Hmmm well I'm ready, but I don't wanna go first....

[Uncle_Ed]

You won't cause I did with Dom thumb!

[jennyfer]

where is it?

Editted to say:never mind, I found it

[jennyfer]

Just for Uncle Ed (ps, It's a short redpleated skirt, a white shirt, red tie, white stockings. and a prefect badge)

Frankly, this whole thing has just gotten way out of hand. Talk about being misunderstood. They say that kinkiness is getting more accepted in mainstream society. Of course what they really mean, is that lingerie shops have started selling furry handcuffs, and that twenty something women buy them and think they’re ever so hardcore and dirty. Lame. Everyone loves the pink fuzzy plastic restraints, but lets not kid ourselves it’s a full on dungeon scene. Anyway, this is beside the point. Thing is, as much as people like to flatter themselves that they’re super open minded and sexually experienced, mention that you’re in a 24-7 non-sexual service based relationship, and they just can’t comprehend. I mean, why on earth would you want to do someone else’s housework for them? What’s the point of submitting to someone if you’re not gonna be getting a bit of the dirty stuff, if you catch my drift?
So of course, people assume that I’m being used here. It’s hard to understand non-kinky kink I guess. Well, between me and you, I do quite like a bit of spanking and some good old fashioned shagging every now again, but for the most part I was pretty happy with the way things were. There are tons of men and women who would kill to get to serve 3 women at once. I’m a sub at heart and I get kicks from just fussing over them. Besides, the arrangement meant I didn’t need to have a job, and that was a nice house I was living in. The attic rooms have the best view you know. What with my day off twice a month and some awfully nice clothes in the bargain, you can’t deny that there were some definite perks.
But anyway, I had this friend called Steve. Steve is about as straight as a circle, and pretty much the most flamboyant homosexual I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Now every girl needs a gay best friend, and Steve was my self-proclaimed “fairy” godmother. And Steve was a big believer that I couldn’t possibly be having fun in this relationship. He was always trying to rescue me. As it happened, our local Prince had just returned to the kingdom from an extended period of absence. Rumour has it he got in some legal difficulties after the Snow White incident and had to take some time away from home. Turned out she was greatly underage, but that’s what you get for taking home the corpses of young girls you find on the hillsides. Sure the dwarves could’ve told him, but how did they know he was gonna do that with her, and with burial prices through the roof I can’t blame them for letting him take her. So when his “affections” happened to dislodge the poisoned apple in her throat and she wakes up screaming, all hell breaks loose. Anyway, I digress.
So the Prince comes home and they throw this huge ball in his honour. Apparently he wants to meet the ‘eligible maidens’ and then the next morning he’ll declare which one he wants as his bride. I resent this treating women like bits of meat (and yet it makes me slightly excited, weird). I also don’t consider myself eligible, with the aforementioned arrangements but they haven’t passed the gay marriage laws yet, and even if they had, this kingdom is very anti-polygamy, so anyway you look at it the law sees me as a single woman.
I expressed my distaste to Steve on the way to the ball, and he supported me throughout the evening exactly as a best friend should. By getting me well and truly pissed. So I’m on my fourth glass of champagne and well into the giddy giggly unbalanced stage of drunkenness when Steve reveals his secret. Turns out the ball isn’t the only party going down tonight. He holds out this exclusive invite to a ‘play party’ in the palace dungeons after the ball. I don’t know how he managed to get hold of them but well, he does get around a bit, you know? It was pretty clearly an attempt to ‘rescue me’ again by reminding me of the joys of sex but I was fairly easy to persuade into going considering my state (and I’d always been a bit curious as to what goes on at one of these) so we slip off to dress in some more suitable attire.
I would have gone for the little black dress, but my fairy godmother said there wont be many chances to get dirty with royalty, and so we should rise to the occasion (if it were still possible for him to rise to anything given the amount of alcohol he had consumed). He picks out this tiny leather bra and some tight leather pants I had to be sewn into, lends me a pair of shiny black stilettos (I didn’t ask…) and we’re good to go.
I check myself in the mirror in the hallway on the way down to the party, and I had to admit I was smoking hot. Steve is out of sight the moment we get inside and instead I find myself being eyed up by an extremely good-looking stranger in the corner of the room. Well one thing led to another and I ended up giving him a lap dance. Yeh I know, inappropriate, I guess there’s a reason they tell you not to drink and kink. Eventually I find Steve hours later and drag his whoring ass home before we both get turned into pumpkins. Next morning I wake up with the hangover from hell and there on the doorstep is the morning paper with the announcement of the Prince’s bride-to-be. You guessed it. My handsome stranger just happened to be the big guy himself and clearly my hot moves had won him over. Bugger. Thing is, he didn’t know who I was. All he had was my little lacy thong. To this day I don’t know how I managed to get it off while I was still wearing the pants. Of course most every girl in the kingdom claimed it was hers and the royal advisors were talking of DNA testing. I was quite happy to pretend it didn’t happen and I certainly didn’t make a claim, but bigmouth Steve sure as hell did, and ran down to the palace with my photograph. The Prince recognised it right away.
Well rules are rules and the law had been passed that compelled me to marry the Prince. I didn’t dread it as much as I thought I would, after all, he was very cute and it had been a long time since I got laid. The dungeon party was proof he was into the lifestyle and he seemed like a nice guy. He even didn’t mind when I insisted Steve would be our maid of honour (he looked damn good in that dress, and it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d worn a pearl necklace). So all things considered I overlooked his reputation and did as I was told.
And so this is where I am now. I go back to the palace and into his room and bloody hell! I’ve never seen so many toys. Whips, chains, floggers, benches, restraints and wow that four-poster bed with the black silk sheets! So I’m thinking to myself ‘hey maybe this isn’t gonna be so bad after all’. I walk around the place running my fingers over the solid gold shackles (he is the future king after all) with my mind racing with all the possibilities. My heart is pounding wondering how long it’ll be before he’s tying me down and taking me. Then I turn around and he’s kneeling behind me, butt naked except for a leather collar. He’s only a bloody sub isn’t he?! Typical. Turn’s out he’d mistaken my outfit and my little performance as a display of dominance and picked out the woman he thought would whip him into shape.
So much for happily ever after. So we consummate the marriage but it’s brief and disappointing to say the least. And he keeps calling me Mistress and trying to lick my feet, and frankly that’s very off putting when I’ve always considered myself a slave. He also has a very small penis. No really. Very very small.
I’m all for compromise, but nowadays we spend more time arguing about who’s gonna hold the whip tonight than we do about ruling the country. And he always wins of course, pointing out that he is going to be King, and as such I have no choice but to do as he says- talk about topping from the bottom!

sorry it's so long Uncle Ed!

[jennyfer]

ok done it :) twice though. damn i'm clumsy

[Uncle_Ed]

jennyfer. This may be in the wrong place-twice, but

BLOODY HELL ITS GOOD!!!!!!!!!!

I'm really terribly sorry but you're disqualified immediately under the rule which states that anyone better than me gets chucked out.

(Like the outfit by the way-was it Steve's?)

Seriously for a moment-all of you that read this-PLEASE comment.
jennyfer tells me its her first attempt because she doesn't believe she can write well. I think she is yanking my chain as this is hilarious. I hope we see more, jenn!

[jennyfer]

Thanks Ed, you don't half know how to flatter a girl

[suchaminx]

Well done Jennyfer you made me smile, thank you

[seababy]

brilliant..I laughed so hard. You have to write more jennyfer.

[fantassy]

great job, jennyfer!

[Uncle_Ed]

OK-we have great start. C'mon the rest of you! Don't be shy-this is for fun-we all win when we laugh together.

[Qmoq]

LOVELY story, Jennyfer! I'll join in with a story in a day or two, I've got a thought for one, but it's a bit weird. If nothing comes from it, I'll come back and tell you what it was about. Yum.

Good thread, Ed. You used your head, Ed, as someone said, Ed

Q

[Uncle_Ed]

[QUOTE=Qmoq I've got a thought for one, but it's a bit weird.
Q[/QUOTE]

There's a surprise.lol

[Qmoq]

Here goes. It's not really fairy story per se... but it's certainly not a normal slam-bang story. Here's part 1, I've not started on part 2 yet.

Q

I am a dog - Part I

by the Qmoq (c) 2006, like anyone would want to copy it

I’m a dog, I must be a dog. I know I think like a human, but I crawl to the mirror on the wardrobe, and saw the face of a dog. I turn to the side, and see the sleek body of a border collie. But here’s the thing, I’m sure I was a woman. I have memories of being a woman, that bed over there, I would bet my Winalot that I used to sleep on that mattress, under that duvet, and with someone, with a human man, I think. Did I dream it?

Oh my god, what was that? My… my cunt just shivered. I guess I must be a bitch, mustn’t I? And I think I’m in season. Oh my lord. God, it wriggled again, what is wrong with me today? Can’t I control myself? Am I in season?

“Annie?” shouted a voice. It’s him! My owner! Now him I do remember. I turn on my feet, and scramble down the stairs. Oh golly, I hope he has some food for me, it feels like three days since I’ve eaten. I scamper into the kitchen, and see him. Oh my, he looks gorgeous. Six feet tall if he’s an inch, and he’s opening a can of juicy dog food for me with a warm smile on his face. My pussy shivers again, a little more this time, and I realise that it’s him I want to fuck, not another dog.

He upends the can into my bowl, and grabs the back of my collar to hold me back when I lean in to eat it. I slobber lustily onto the tiles as he sprinkles some white powder onto the top of the food, and then the phone rings. I whimper quietly as he drags me over to the wall where the phone hung. He picks it up, and I hear every syllable, but I just can’t understand what I am hearing. “Yeah god, thanks for that, she really thinks she’s a dog, it’s incredible!” He paused. I jumped up at him, he swats my face away with a push. “Naked, yes! [another pause] I don’t know, another day or two, no more. I want my Annabell back, you know? I do love the bones of her, after all.” He paused again, and looked down at me longingly. My tail wagged at my name – the only word I understood. Then he spoke into the phone one last time. “I know. I am a soppy bastard, aren’t I?”

He hangs up, and lets go of my collar. Remembering the food, I scamper forwards and dive my face into the bowl, taking a large mouthful of meaty dogfood chunks in my mouth. I chew and realise how delicious it is, but the white powder has a strange taste that I don’t like much. I sneeze, and hear a laugh, followed by footsteps. I feel the brush of his slacks against my side as I take another bite of dinner.

He rubs the top of my head, and I smile as I continue to eat, then his hands stroke my back, and it almost feels as though I don’t have any fur at all on there, it’s hard to describe. And then… then his hand tickles my side, and moves under me, to rub my nipples. He just runs his fingers back and forth over them, a soft touch but quite deliberate, and I think my reaction pleases him, because he laughs out loud. I wag my tail a little more and arch my back to brush harder against him.

He stops the rubbing, and even before he stands up, I have rolled over onto my back, legs apart, looking at him plaintively, desperate for another tickle. He stares at me for a few moments, looking me up and down with a great deal of contemplation, a hand deep in each of his pockets. I shrug, look down, and lean forwards to try to lick myself. I can! I can, and it pleases me no end when I realise that if I turn to my side, my arm shoves my breast up closer to my mouth and I can lick the nipple that he had been scratching. I continue to lick it, and I can see his hands go deeper into his pockets. At that point, my cunt took another spasm, my nipples were hard as stale dogbiscuits. I was definitely in season. I wanted to fuck something.

End of part I

[Uncle_Ed]

Qmoq.

A good friend of mine is convinced he's a Labrador-so I got him to comment on your... er... story.

He has writen a lengthy thesis on your mental state.

Do you want to show it to your doctor?

Tell him its the results of your Lab report.

[cariad]

Years ago Dr Edmundo Master was captured by the evil AC and forced to watch over a room full of nymphs and trolls at play, he under took his duties diligently, befriending each of them with his gentle mocking until he became universally loved and affectionately known as ‘Uncle Sloth’.

However Edmundo Master had a secret. When AC and the operators were all asleep he would he would silently creep from the room, leaving the nymphs at play and through a door known only to him, he would enter the room called ‘the school room’. Here he would amuse himself by sitting at the elevated teacher’s desk, looking out at the rows of empty pupils’ desks, and writing articles for a publication called ‘Forum’.

Once upon a time when Edmundo had had a particular tiring day in the chat room, and was reluctant to return to jumping scrolls and unregistered users he wandered around the school room taking in the scents from his long distant childhood and lovingly fingering the artifacts. Never before had he never noticed that the birch rods were sitting in fresh water. One particular rod caught his eye, it was so smooth and the colour was so rich that he had to take if from the pot. An experiment swish showed him its perfect balance. From the pocket of his tweed jacket he took out a clean handkerchief and rubbed the last drops of water from the rod.

He did not notice the subtle changes in the classroom as he rubbed, the way the dust was gone, the signs of recent use, or even the appearance of the punishment book on his desk. But what he did notice was a set of running footsteps echoing in the corridor, with the cry of “I’m late, I’m late for granting the Master’s wishes”.

Neither could he fail to notice the door fly open and the girl run in and skid to a stop before him. Flustered she smoothed her skirt down, and stammered out an apology for her tardiness.

Ed Master looked slowly over the school girl standing before him. Her uniform just tight enough and just short enough to emphasize her femininity, the crossed tawse and cane emblazoned on her blazer declaring her to be a pupil of Slothlands Academy. Her hands went behind her back, and her head bowed as he left her standing there, and with the rod still in his hand he returned his desk.

“Name?”

“Jeanie Birch, Sir”

Ed Master flicked through the punishment book on his desk and found hers was the only name mentioned in it. Looking up at her again he demanded an explanation for her tardiness and slovenly dress; why her tie was not falling quite straight and one of her socks was half fallen down.

He motioned her to the pupil’s desk with the finger blocks hooked over two of the corners and told her to assume her usual position. Her fingers slipped into place, she knew what to do. Her body slanting downward over the desk, her arse already forming an inviting target. It became an even more inviting target as Ed Master came down to her, and lifted her skirt up revealing her white knickers. It became a completely irresistible target as he pulled her knickers down enough to leave the smooth rounds of her yet unmarked pale arse exposed.

Ed whispered into Jeanie’s ear, “a baker’s dozen”, stood back, and the rod swished through the air for the first time. As Jeanie’s yelp caressed his ears he his eyes drank in the sight of the single red line.

A second swish and her sobs formed a continuo to be marked out by the swish of the rod through the air, the thud of the impact and her cry of pain. Each placement of the rod precise, Ed a Master of this craft, the welts forming an exquisite pattern on his favourite type of canvas.

The twelfth strike and Ed sighed as he savoured and lifted the rod for the final time. Standing just a little bit further back, he cut into her tender flesh. As her scream faded he leant forwards and whispered into her ear once more ‘now go and stand in the corner, as I consider which three wishes I would like you to grant me…….’

[Uncle_Ed]

Why didn't I think of this?

Rule 11) All entries must be similar to cariad's. (tee hee hee!)

cariad-I'm flattered. Thank you!

[Qmoq]

Cari, that was damned good! I love a nice, descriptive story, and I'll envy you forever because you came up with the line "...his eyes drank in the sight of the single red line". Oh my lord!

I'd love to be a fly onthe wall of Sloth's Acadamy. You bet your ass.

Q

[Qmoq]

By the way, here's part II (of II) of the "I Am A Dog" story.

Part II



I follow him as he walks to the front room, padding my paws gently on the carpet. I look enviously at the space next to him on the sofa, another annoying vague memory coming to my head, but I know my place. I snuggle next to him, on the floor. He runs his fingers through the hair on my head, and my chest heaves lustily.

“Annie?” he says. I look up.

“Sit.”

I sit squarely on the floor, legs apart, front paws flat and face down.

“Beg.”

I move my hands to my chest, and my bottom lifts off the floor as I sit on my haunches.

“Good girl,” he says, and ruffles my head again. My cunt is now squirming, I want to fuck him so badly, but deep down I know he never would. He walks back to the kitchen, talking all the time. “Wargle wraggle Annie wrag grappa targle carigle,” is what I hear. I cannot understand a word he says, but I follow, and he has the confidence of someone who knows that I would always trundle along behind him. “Wingle bargle, Annie, bargle sexy wingle targle bargle.”

It is three seconds before I realise that I understood a different word, other than my name. I froze. I wag my tail uncertainly at him. “Slothicle barticle out of milk. Wingadle fingle some later on when I go down to the shops. I need to bargle you margle dog food anyway, don’t I, Annie?”

I am confused, but I say nothing. I turn to the water and begin to drink again. It seems to clear my head more fully. He finishes making a cup of tea for himself, and wanders back into the living room. I pause for a moment, and look in the glass door of the oven, and blink at the reflection I see.

I do not see a collie. I see a twenty-five year-old woman, naked on all fours, water dripping out of her open mouth. Her – sorry, my hair is tied up in two bunches on the side of my head, to resemble ears, I think. But I am naked.

My cunt shudders, and I look down for the first time. There is a device strapped to my pussy, a vibrator. I recognise this, and remember him putting it on me – it was a remote controlled vibrator that he had customised, and linked to his computer. Any time he was away and I was at home, he could send an instruction for the computer to give me a little pleasure. He could also put it on “random”, which would give me random bouts of vibration throughout the day. If you didn’t know it existed, you would think that you had no control over your cunt. Much like how a dog might feel if it was in heat. I flush at our ingenuity.

The shiver in my pussy makes me more aware of my body, and there is no sign of a struggle. I take another taste of water, and my head clears a little more. I remember that I definitely volunteered for this. I was the one that got him the powder, the powder that I had sneezed. That was it! I must have only taken a half-dose, and it had worn off already.

I cannot remember how much I agreed to do, but that lust that I felt for him, it was deep within me all along. I wanted to fuck him all the time, whether I thought I was woman, bitch or avocado.

I am concentrating so much on the questions and the memories, I barely hear him leave for the shops.

The next question that sprang to my mind was – what to do now? I chose to continue, not for him, but for me. I knew that I’d chosen to do this, so I must have thought that it would be fun, and I was right, my cunt was wet through. Of course, I was no longer his dog, I was just pretending to be his dog. There was just one problem. I didn’t know precisely how a dog was supposed to act, even though I’d been doing it for a few hours.

I bite my lip and make a decision. I’m going to be a bad dog. I’m going to test his ability as an animal handler. I’m going to do the (second) worst thing a dog can do when her owner is away.

I find a suitable spot in the kitchen, the place where he is most likely to notice it, and then I squat an inch or two from the surface, and piss. There is a satisfying sound of running water, some splashes down my legs, but I have to hold myself from wiping it off. Looking at my work, I smile and crawl slowly and sheepishly away, to curl up on the sofa.

He comes through the door, and I scamper towards him, jumping up at him.

“Annie, get down,” he smiles, and I jump even higher up his body, deliberately brushing a hand across his groin. He smiles, pushes me away, then pulls out a plastic bone from the bag he is holding.

“You want this, huh? You want the bone, Annie?”

I want the bone. He throws it underneath the couch, and I rush towards it, putting my head as far underneath it as I can. I can’t quite reach it, but I can hear him shout “Oh for fuck’s sake!” as he slips on the piss on the kitchen floor.

“Annie,” he shouts, and I pad towards him. “ANNIE.”

I sit on the floor, unabashed. I look up at him, smiling.

“Bad dog!” he snarls, and grabs the back of my head. He slowly but forcefully pushes my face forwards, and I realise what he is going to do. He is going to teach me a lesson. “Lick it up, Annie.”

I wag my tail – or rather, wiggle my butt, pretending to be aroused at the sound of my name. But I don’t have to pretend, it’s true. I am. Leaning down so closely, I can feel my nipples on the damp floor, and they scrape nicely upon it. I put out a tongue and begin to lap up my piss.

“Good girl, Annie,” he says, and I’m relieved that he mentions my name, because it means I can smile and wag my tail again. I still want to fuck him so much, and I know that waving my pussy at him will increase the chances.

It works. I can hear him debating with himself, he is sure I cannot understand a word he says. His hand is still on the back of my neck, and I still lick the floor clean, but he says “I just have to fuck you. I don’t care. I’m going to do it.”

I find it almost impossible not to smile, but manage it, just. I hear him unzip himself, and as soon as he lets go of my neck, I twirl and spin with the most gormless expression I can produce. I have to blink several times to hold back the tears of excitement that he is going to fuck me, right here, right now.

It happens quickly. I feel two hands on my side, and I wriggle a little as I hear him undo the straps of the vibe. I whimper, which clearly excites him. Normally he is a sensual, considerate lover, generous with the foreplay, but today he is more of an animal than me. He slides his cock into me, halfway in on the first thrust, and doesn’t even withdraw before slamming himself in the rest of the way.

I grunt, and wriggle, and whine, but inside I am churning and more aroused than I have ever been in my life. He continues to fuck me, with a steady rhythm, pushing me forwards on the slippy kitchen floor until my head becomes wedged into a corner where two cupboards meet. He continues to fuck me harder, but I can now push back, and I do. I wiggle my bottom at him twisting my cunt to let him fuck me from a different angle.

And then I hear a strange little sound. Before I work out what it was, I feel it. He had spat on my asshole, and he spits again, hitting the spot with amazing accuracy. Then, then I am amazed – he slides a fingertip inside my ass, with his cock still deep inside my cunt. I realise that he is going to ream me. He had never tried before, though I think I had said that I wouldn’t mind, if I was in the mood. I had never been in the mood before. Now, unless I wanted to reveal my corrected state of mind, I would have no choice.

Fortunately, I was in the mood. He could have done anything to me at that point, and I would have said yes. But the naughty dog that was inside me comes out, and I curve my back forwards, just enough to get my cunt free from his cock, and then I’m away. I scamper like a frightened animal, into the living room, and curl up on the sofa.

“Annie! You bad dog. Come here!”

I ease myself off the couch, and I feel another tremor shake my pussy. It is two full seconds before I realise that there is no vibrator there any more. I pad slowly towards him, my eyes flash at his firm cock, and I want him in me so badly.

He leans down to pat my head, then falls further down upon me, forcing me face down into the carpet. He won’t be denied a second time. I feel the head of his cock at my asshole, and I grunt, wondering what it will feel like. He grabs my hair to make sure I do not run, and then wriggles a little forcing an inch, then a second inch inside me. There are tears in my eyes, but I love every moment. I am his dog.



The End…

[Uncle_Ed]

[QUOTE=Qmoq


I wanted to fuck him all the time, whether I thought I was woman, bitch or avocado.

[/QUOTE]

Q;

That has to be one of the best lines in any BDSM story!

(Still think you should see the vet!)

[Qmoq]

Ach, that reminds me of the old joke that I was going to put into the story, but forgot.

Annie: I wondered whether I was going mad. I wondered if I needed a psychiatrist, and then I realised that I wouldn't be allowed on the couch.

Q

[Uncle_Ed]

Reminds me in turn of two psychiatrists who meet in the street. One says to the other; "How am I?"

[cariad]

Woof Woof. A great story Q and thank you!

Now what am; I a bitch in heat who could be a woman, or a woman in heat who could be a bitch. Or am I both, or am I neither.

Heeeeeeeeelp me Uncle Q

[Qmoq]

Hi Cari. I've given your tragic note a lot of thought, and when I say thought, I mean I went to pee and thought of you while washing my hands.

Umm. Ah. I think you're a woman bitch in heat, particularly when you're being nasty to our friend Uncle Ed. Hehe. But you're a cutie pie and an angel, if that's any consolation.

Q xx

[cariad]

Hi Cari. I've given your tragic note a lot of thought, and when I say thought, I mean I went to pee and thought of you while washing my hands.

Umm. Ah. I think you're a woman bitch in heat, particularly when you're being nasty to our friend Uncle Ed. Hehe. But you're a cutie pie and an angel, if that's any consolation.

Q xx


Well Q, I guess I should be grateful that you thought of me as you were washing your hands rather than as you were peeing.

But I do thank you for sorting out my identity crisis, and if I can ever return the favour....

cariad
kisses and woof

[jennyfer]

Oooh ooh I'll sign up for the academy! Sounds awesome!
Actually my high school was a lot like that.... you didn't go to school with me did you Cariad?
Q that was great but I expectednothing less after reading your famous story.

[Uncle_Ed]

jennyfer,

Consider yourself signed up!

[cariad]

Oooh ooh I'll sign up for the academy! Sounds awesome!
Actually my high school was a lot like that.... you didn't go to school with me did you Cariad?
Q that was great but I expectednothing less after reading your famous story.


One row in from the right, third desk back. Where were you?

[sublimey]

Jez You Are All Budding Bards And I Am Quaking In My Boots Now I Have Seen The Standard Of This Forum. I Am Going Back To The Drawing Board To Start Again. What A Wonderful Imagination You All Have
Sublimey

[Uncle_Ed]

sublimey,

Aren't they great?

I'm positive I speak for your friends here when I tell you that we're looking forward to seeing your work too.

Remember; no-one is as strange as Qmoq!

And I mean that most sincerely folks! *winks at Q and fetches thimble...*

[Qmoq]

Thanks Ed!

What follows here is a story inspired by, and dedicated to, young Cariad, and her adorable beau Colin_Clout. Hope you enjoy it!

Q

[Qmoq]

The Damsel In This Dress

(c) 2006 Qmoq

Part I

“Oh Princess, you look absolutely adorable,” sighed the duchess.

The duchess was correct. Princess Cariad stared at herself in the looking glass, and ran her hands down the smooth curves of her body, over the soft green fabric of her dress. She had never looked more alluring, and surely tonight she would be the belle of the ball. She had designs on the roguish Spanish earl, Senor Clouto, and such designs would require her to look her best. This was the reason why she had cast a decree to find the best dressmaker in the county, who turned out to be a rather gentle but unnerving fellow called Edmund Sloth.

He had taken her measurements over the course of an intensive day-long one-on-one session. Cariad flushed hotly at the memory. She recalled how his hands roughly pushed her naked legs apart to measure the circumference of her thighs, how he stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and held hold of her breasts, squeezing them to test their malleability. Even the obviously non-sexual touches, such as measuring the distance from elbow to shoulder, became intimate, as he let his fingertips tingle across her tender skin.

He closed his eyes, telling her that he was picturing the fabric upon her, whispering seductively that an expert dressmaker had to ‘become’ the cloth. He had to imagine how he would feel, covering the curves of her body, drifting lazily between her legs, tucking up on the underside of her breasts, wrapping himself around her neck. But when he had concluded the measuring session, Cariad had curtly put a stop to any more touching. The man’s tumescence had scared and excited her, so she put her foot down. “Stop that, kind sir!” she had cried whilst putting on her robe to cover her modesty. “Thou shalt go blind.”

It was worth it, the resulting dress was the best in the land. It hugged and warmed her skin, matched her eyes, accentuated each and every contour on her young frame. It was ankle-length, but when she walked, it floated around her like it was lighter than air. It was the perfect dress for Senor Clouto, but because she feared it would be ripped in a clinch with the Spaniard, she had ordered three identical copies from Edmund Sloth.

The castle where the ball was to be held was only an hour’s carriage ride away. Duchess Julia Trulia and Princess Cariad entered their cab, and giggled lustily at the potential exploits that would be written in the annals that night.

“I said ‘annals’, you cloth-eared wench!” giggled Cariad, after Julia Trulia had gasped.

“That dress, my dear, it does look wonderful upon you,” purred Julia Trulia, and Cariad noticed her friend’s bosom heave heartily, and a wrinkle to the duchess’ nose confirmed Cariad’s suspicions.

The carriage began to rock back and forth with the gentle motion of the travel. The heady musk of horse-power did nothing to quell the uncomfortable atmosphere that the lust of the duchess had produced.

“So,” said the princess, trying to change the subject, “Who dost thou havest thou eye on tonight, my dear?”

“Pardon?” asked Julia Trulia.

“Who do you have your eye on tonight?”

“Oh.” Julia Trulia mused for a second or two. “Whomever dost meet my high standards.”

Princess Cariad stifled a giggle. The duchess’ standards were dropped as frequently as the petticoats she occasionally wore under her pink dress. This gave her a thought.

“Duchess? Did you remember to wear your undergarments tonight?”

“I am afraid to say that I forgot to pass them to the maid to launder,” replied Julia Trulia. “And thou, fair Cariad, dost thou wear any thyself?”

Cariad flushed again. The dress she wore was delectable, but it came at a price. It hugged her figure so tenderly that she would be unable to wear undergarments for fear of having Visible Petticoat Line. Sloth’s workmanship was of an exceptional high quality, and the dress offered built-in support of her bosom, which almost spilled out over the low neckline. The more she touched the soft green fabric, the more she could feel the subtle corseting within the dress that made her slim waist even svelter.

The sound of hooves seemed to become louder, and a look outside showed that they were moving faster.

“I say! Driver!” cooed Julia Trulia. “Where is the fire, chum?”

“Ma’am,” replied a glum-faced driver, “We are being chased by a gang of highwaymen.”

This was not completely true. The gang consisted of just two, and they were a couple – the man was known simply as Archie, and the buxom girl at his side was the vicious but gorgeous Siouxie. Each was a crack-shot with pistol and arrow, and upon recognising them, the driver feared for his life, knowing that he could be picked off at thirty paces from Siouxie, and twenty from Archie.

“Madam,” pleaded the driver, “I recommend we stop and surrender. If I pull up quickly by the bushes, one of you can escape into the undergrowth.”

“Me!” said Julia Trulia instantly.

“Very well,” said Cariad courageously. She went on, with a touch of sarcasm. “Since you, in your bright pink dress, would be adequately camouflaged in the green undergrowth, whilst I, in my dark green dress, would stick out a mile, it makes sense for you to scarper. Just do me and the driver a favour, please find help as soon as you can. I’ve heard horrendous stories of what these brigands do to their captives. Sordid, degrading stories are they, stories to chill the soul with details involving steel bonds and whips.”

“Oh,” said Julia Trulia, “I think I want to stay now.”

“Go, go!” urged Cariad as the cab slowed to a crawl. With a yelp, Julia Trulia was pushed out of the door and into a clump of deep nettles. A quick glance showed no trace of her – she was able to hide her pinkness very well indeed. The rapidly closing pair did not see her.

The driver stopped the carriage a hundred yards away from the spot where Julia Trulia had departed, and put up his hands in abject and obvious surrender. The masked twosome, Siouxie and Archie, dismounted their steeds and approached warily.

“Come out with your hands up,” barked Archie into the cab.

Cariad mustered a good deal of dignity, and nudged open the door with a knee. Archie gave her a quick glance full of lust, then turned to look more closely at Siouxie before she noticed his appreciation for Cariad. It was Siouxie who he adored with all his heart, but the sight of the damsel Cariad was invigorating too.

Fortunately, Siouxie would have agreed that Cariad was a delectable cutie, and was pleased that Archie hid his reaction so well. She vowed that she would reward him later, but for now, merely approached her captive.

“Well, well, well,” Siouxie purred. “What have we here? What’s your name, cutie?”

“C-Cariad,” replied the frightened wench.

“Princess Cariad?” asked Archie, to which Cariad nodded, not taking her eyes off Siouxie.

“Oh my,” said Siouxie. “A real princess, well, what are we to do with you?” She paced slowly around Cariad, who did not move an inch, for she wanted to give Siouxie no reason to be angry. “Maybe I could throw you to the men, let them hold you down and fuck you. Get some working-class spunk in that pussy of yours, get some red slap-marks on that prim little body. How does that sound?”

“Pretty good, actually,” grinned Cariad, and she heard Archie giggle in a manly way, out of sight.

“On your knees.”

Cariad knelt. In full view of Archie and the driver, Siouxie tugged down her own trousers, revealing a bare bottom that curved deliciously, and a pussy that was surprisingly neatly trimmed. Then she parted her legs.

“Lick,” was her one-word command.

“No,” was Cariad’s reply.

Siouxie drew her pistol from her shoulder-holster, and aimed it at the driver. “Lick, or he shall perish.”

Cariad did not hesitate. She leaned forwards, a disgusted frown on her face, tongue out, and placed its tip on the least abhorrent part of Siouxie’s labia.

“Come now, whore, I think you can do better than that, don’t you? But I’m not evil. Hitch up that skirt of yours, and give your cunt a rub.”

There was no threat to the driver this time, but Cariad obeyed immediately. She pushed her head further in between Siouxie’s thighs to hide her face from the watching men. Siouxie did not lower her arm, the gun was still aimed at the man, but her hand shook, and her eyes were looking down at the bobbing head beneath her.

“That’s better. Oh my fuck, you know your way around a pair of cuntlips, don’t you, slut?”

[Qmoq]

Part I continued...

Cariad hummed a “yes, miss” that seemed to spur Archie into action. He took Siouxie’s gun, then told the driver to get in the cab and lie down with his wrists together, behind his back. Having obeyed, the driver soon found himself lying face down with an uncomfortable erection, hogtied and alone.

Inwardly, Cariad whimpered as she heard Archie approach, but she need not have worried about him. He only had eyes for Siouxie. Without any warning, and from behind her back, he tugged off his belt and whipped it hard across Siouxie’s rear. Cariad yelped in alarm, though she was in no danger. She did, however, sense the gentle moistness in Siouxie’s vagina become a little more pronounced.

Suddenly, Cariad felt a little more resistance. When she pushed her tongue into Siouxie’s slit, there was a push back. A quick glance to the side showed her what was happening. Archie had crouched down behind his friend, and was sliding two fingers into her bottom.

Siouxie purred loudly at the touch of the willing and unwilling upon her, and began to lose herself in the moment. She interlaced her fingers around the back of Cariad’s head, and cradled her in place, severely restricting her ability to breathe properly whilst licking. Siouxie had no sympathy, however, and ground her cunt against Cariad’s chin, and urged Archie to “get out your fricking cock and stick it up my hole”.

Archie, apparently, liked to tease. He did not stick anything up anyone. Instead, he took his belt, and wrapped it around Siouxie’s neck, tightening it hard. Cariad wondered what the hell was going on, but realised quickly that there was a reason. She understood when Siouxie’s knees buckled, and she yelped with an uproarious orgasm that echoed throughout the forest.

“Th-thank you,” Siouxie whispered to Archie.

“You’re welcome. Get your pants on, and tie up the whore.”

“Yes,” sighed Siouxie obediently. She picked up Archie’s belt, and pushed Cariad to the floor. Squelching in the mud, Cariad tried to remain quiet as her wrists were bound behind her back. One thought came to mind – where the hell was Julia Trulia?

She was shoved into the cab, and tied back to back with the driver. Neither was going anywhere, all they could do was sit and listen to the yelps and obscene chants from their captors.

They were driven to a small camp, which was surprisingly well-equipped for captives. Before Cariad could realise where she was, she had been locked into a very public cage. Her driver was placed in a similar one, and there was an array of half a dozen other cages, but only one occupant, a middle-aged man with no distinguishing features.

Cariad rattled the cage a little, but not too much because she did not want to draw too much attention to herself. She looked down at her stained, ruined dress, ran her fingers through her dirty-black hair, and sat down. There were a suspicious number of rough-looking men, and a few women who appeared to be rougher still. The women were taking great delight in tormenting the poor middle-aged man, throwing sticks at him and ordering him to expose himself to them.

She promised herself that she would not be so meek. When they finally came, both the men and the women, she ignored them all. They had clearly been given instructions not to harm her, but their taunts were vicious and graphic.

Then, then she saw Siouxie. She emerged from her tent, wiping her mouth, it did not take Cariad long to guess that Archie would be sleeping with a heartily-sucked cock right now. The gang leader glanced around her camp, then caught Cariad’s eye. Slowly, sleekly, she padded over to her cage, grabbing three men to help her.

“Get her out.”

The cage was unlocked, and a bald savage reached in to grab Cariad. After a bite and a slap, he got a grip of her hair, and dragged her out. The other men now joined in, one slipped a hand down the front of her dress, another ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, rubbing his thumb on the crease of her vulva.

“Bend her over the cage.”

Cariad was pushed face down, her waist on the edge of the cage. The bald chap held one arm and her neck, a hairier gentleman on the other side kept her other arm and her hair in a firm grip. But it was the woman behind her that scared Cariad.

“Lift up her dress.”

The third man peeled up the hemline of her skirt, and Cariad felt a fresh breeze on her bottom. It did not last long.

THWACK!

Eight strands of a birch hit her cheeks within a split-second of each other. Cariad, despite her bravery, could not help herself. She roared out a plaintive scream.

“No, no, please…” she whimpered.

THWACK!

The second stroke was even worse, it criss-crossed against the welts of the first, and a stray strand hit her right in the centre of her ass.

“Please god, S-S-Siouxie, please no m-more.”

Siouxie did not say a word, but scraped her fingernails hard down one cheek and up the other. This produced a hoarse scream that sent shivers down two of the men.

Then Cariad began to weep, as the fingernails stopped. She knew what was coming. And it came.

“NoooooooooooooooaaaAHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” she yelled, her eyes bursting open and bulging.

“Good,” said Siouxie. “I think I can now ask you a question.”

“Wh-what is it? P-please,” dribbled Cariad pathetically.

“The question is simple. Do you renounce your title and give your wealth to us?”

Cariad blinked, and found new reserves of strength and defiance. She was a princess. “Thou willst not maketh me sign,” she snarled. “I may have the body of a cute little charmer of a woman, but I have the heart of a lion that has eaten plenty of fucking zebra.”

“Strip her,” ordered Siouxie curtly.

The bald gentleman pulled Cariad upright. He tugged the dress off her, up over her head, and Cariad blushed hotly, naked for the first time, her bare skin on display, in front of three sadistic men and a deranged woman, the most dangerous of all. The bald man laughed at her expression. He was the first to die.

“Wha?” was his last word, as an arrow pierced his spine, shooting so far through his body and it prodded out of his chest.

Cariad dropped to the floor and curled into a ball, as the chaotic scene played out. From the flashes of the fight she saw, she imagined an army of thirty men who had come to save her.

“Nope,” said a friendly voice when she was told the coast was clear. “Not thirty. Just me, your duchess chum.”

“What? How?” asked Cariad.

“Simple,” said Julia Trulia, with a grin as wide and suspicious as ever. “I seduced the guards one by one, using my feminine wiles. Then I freed your driver, or I tried to, at least. He thought it was a trap. I had to seduce him too, to prove it wasn’t. Then we freed that guy in the cage, and oh my fucking lord, but he turns out to be a deadly bastard with the arrows.”

Cariad looked again. Each of the vagabonds had been struck down by a single arrow or two. Archie had six arrows sticking out of him, and Julia Trulia explained that he had refused to die until he had crawled to be with Siouxie.

“How touching.”

“Damn skippy,” sniffed Julia Trulia. “But I’m glad we got him, it’s all down to Ernie with the bow.”

Ernie waved lustily at Cariad, who curtsied in response.

“I’m eternally grateful – he’ll be knighted like a conquering hero. Still,” frowned Cariad, “it’s a shame your dress is ruined. Must have been the nettles.”

Julia Trulia looked down at herself. Vast rips revealed large expanses of taut, bare flesh. Her legs were completely bare, one buttock was mostly revealed, and it was only due to a fluke that her nipples were covered by a thin, ragged ribbon.

“Yeah,” hummed Julia Trulia, “those nettles. Yep. Still, what are you going to do? God, look at your dress – it’s even worse than mine.”

Cariad held the rag in her hand. “I’ve still got two spares, courtesy of Mr Sloth,” sighed Princess Cariad. She cast the dress to the floor and walked away. She did not see the grass underneath the dress magically wither and die.

End of Part I

[Qmoq]

Part II

The messengers were run ragged by Cariad and Senor Clouto in the following weeks. Clouto could not believe the letters he was being sent, so replied often and thoroughly, asking for detail after detail.

Eventually, Cariad wrote that she would like to see him, to talk it through over an invigorating feast, and Clouto readily agreed. She did not want their affair to be made public, so decided to escape from the castle at dawn one day, telling no-one, not even the fair duchess Julia Trulia.

She rode at high speed, eager to see him. Her mind raced with the possibilities that would arise when they met, her thighs clung harder and harder to the horse as she became more and more aroused. Her eyes began to tear with tiredness, excitement and the wind, and it was this that caused the accident.

She took a corner far too fast, the horse dismounted her, and she bounced cutely down a hill. Aside from a scratch on her elbow, she was unhurt, and fortunately her replacement green dress was unscathed, save for a patch of mud near the hem.

It was only after she had satisfied herself that she was well, that she noticed something was wrong. She had come to rest at the entrance to a large cave, and wandered inside at the sight of something glittering.

It was a mistake. She caught the hem of her dress on a rock, tripped, and fell. When she looked up, she saw something in the air. It looked big, fast, and approaching. She blinked, and blinked again, and realised what it was.

The dragon beat its wings once, twice, and its speed increased threefold. It had spotted Cariad trying to sneak into its lair, and decided that she would be a welcome addition to his total. He grinned to himself as he saw her paralysed with fear, but still descended in a way where he could close in upon her, if she chose to run.

Cariad had realised this, and decided that staying where she was would be the best option. It appeared that this was correct, when the dragon landed near to her. It was huge, at least sixty feet high and a hundred long, with a vicious set of teeth that were bared at her. She merely smiled at him, wrongly believing that showing no fear would help.

The dragon looked at her for a second, and then sneezed upon her.

“Ewwwwww!” she yelped, as the mucus covered her in a thin, sticky film. “Dash it, you never heard of a handkerchief?”

She quickly realised that the mucus must have toxic properties. Her body began to feel differently, she fell first to her knees, then rolled onto her back, lying flat out, breathing heavily. The feeling was draining from her limbs, she tried to stretch them out to get some circulation started, but all this accomplished was the adoption of a pretty starfish pose.

The dragon watched with interest. He appeared to frown slightly at the curious specimen below him, and approached cautiously.

He bent over her.

Cariad bit her lip so hard, she felt blood enter her mouth. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

He reached out an ugly paw, with long blunted claws from scaly, lizard-like fingers. Cariad closed her eyes as the first claw touched her. To her surprise, it did not cut her in half. In fact, the touch was gentle, almost sensual. If she wasn’t stupefied by fear, she would have sworn that he was stroking her with his fingers.

He appeared to have most control over the foot-long claw on his little finger. He slid it under the hem of Cariad’s dress, and stroked it up and down the inside of her leg. The smooth, cool blade raised strong goosepimples from her milky-white thighs. In spite of herself, she knew she didn’t wholly dislike the experience.

The claw began to move up and around her body, her breasts were prised out from the top of the dress, and wiggled happily as they were tickled and teased. The dragon seemed to know exactly what he was doing, thought the princess, as the edge of the claw ran around her nipple, circling it, tickling it like she dreamed Clouto would, making it hard, then rubbing across the hardness. The thought of Clouto helped. She closed her eyes as the claw continued to brush under her dress and on her skin, imagining it to be Senor Clouto taking advantage of her, as she lay in her four poster bed. Only the noxious smell of the dragon reminded her of her predicament.

Suddenly, the claw was removed, and Cariad felt the fear return. The dragon took a half-step forwards, and towered above her petrified body. She was looking into his eyes, and he almost appeared to smile. He opened his mouth, leaned forwards, and just as Cariad shut her eyes, expecting to be torched by the dragon’s breath, she heard a sound. It was a sound that she had not heard since she looked through a keyhole whilst Julia Trulia had fellated the Italian Prince Regent. It was the sound of a tongue, a six-inch wide, three-foot long tongue, uncoiling from his mouth.

“Surely not!” she told herself.

She was wrong.

The tongue was rougher than the claw – without any tenderness, it began to lap at Cariad’s vulva. It was torture, heavenly torture. She begged him to stop, she begged hard, because she could not admit to herself that she adored his touch. It drove her close to madness, as the wet tongue lapped warm saliva all over her lower body, because she could not close her legs, or arch her back, or wriggle the way she wanted to, the way she had to. She could feel each individual knobbly tastebud of the tongue and it ran up and down her inner legs, concentrating its focus on her pussy, but always surprising and disgusting her as it roved. Her dress was soaked with dampness, and she tried to convince herself it was all from him. She knew it was not true.

He stepped back, and produced the claw again. But this was a different claw, and it twisted to show a sharp edge. Her eyes flashed again, but his motive was the same as every other male she had met. He wanted her naked. The sharp edge ran up the centre of her body, neatly slicing the dress in two. He proceeded to snip off the sleeves, and then flicked it off her body in a delicate, deliberate motion.

A little movement had returned to her body, and she could bend her neck to look down at herself. Her breasts heaved quickly, her legs were coated with saliva, sweat, dirt and – because she had to be honest with herself – the sweet juice from her cunt. But there was not a single scratch on her body, save for a bruise on her elbow from the initial fall.

The dragon stood on its haunches, and looked up. It appeared to be puzzled for a moment, then roared angrily at something, vicious jets of flame bursting from its mouth. Cariad turned her head to follow the dragon’s line of vision, and saw what made it so irate.

“Hola!” shouted Senor Clouto. He was on his trusty steed, and was firing arrow after arrow from a bow. Each arrow hit home on the dragon’s flesh.

It was too much for Cariad. The dragon, the claw, the tongue, her naked body, and now Senor Clouto. “My hero!” she called back, and fainted.

She awoke to find Senor Clouto kneeling at her side. She was still naked, but she was overjoyed to realise that she could move her arms and legs.

“The d-dragon?” she asked.

“Dead.”

“H-how?” she stuttered.

“There’ll be plenty of time for tales later. First, we should get you home.”

He pulled her up, and covered her nakedness with his cloak. His horse, Dave, pulled to his side, and he leg-upped Cariad onto Dave’s back, before joining her. Instantly, she clung on, content to have something to hug.

“Why was he… doing that to me?” asked Cariad.

“Well, fair play to him, it’s what I’d do to you if I had the chance. Stout fellow, that dragon, full of common sense, don’t you know.”

“No, but…”

Clouto raised a hand, and Cariad stopped talking instantly.

“Knights do not normally tell anyone of this,” he whispered over his shoulder, “but dragons feed on the juices produced by fair maidens. Any chance they get, they seduce the girl until she is overcome with joy and ecstasy to the point where she can no longer contain herself. She would literally squirt into his open mouth.”

“And you stopped him? You bastard,” she hissed, punching him playfully on the back of the shoulder.

“Yes. Because after that, he gets hungry and eats her. But the mystical thing is that he can only survive on the juice of a virgin. If the lady has been deflowered, she has no nutrients left for him.”

Cariad ran this thought over in her mind for a few moments. “So, presumably, the fact that they are dying out means that there are fewer virgins around.”

He nodded guiltily.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Cariad continued. “Knights like you are going around, deflowering virgins so that the dragons will become extinct, aren’t you?”

“It’s a thankless task,” grinned Senor Clouto.

Cariad wrapped her arms around his chest as she clung onto him. “Why do you have to do it? Why can’t you just tell anyone to deflower the virgins?”

“Oh ah. Well, it has to be a Knight, you see, for magical and mystical reasons.”

“Magical and mystical reasons,” repeated Cariad, unconvinced.

“Yeah,” frowned Senor Clouto sheepishly. “You bet your ass.”

End of Part II

[Qmoq]

Part III

In her bedroom, sitting upon her four-poster bed, Cariad lay back in her petticoats. Julia Trulia watched on from a nearby chair.

“It’s the dress. Rather, it’s the cloth,” said Cariad to Julia Trulia.

She picked up a cat, and wrapped the cloth around its neck, like a collar. Then she let the cat go. It wandered off, confused.

“Now watch this,” whispered Cariad. She picked up a stone, turned her back on the cat, and lobbed the stone over her shoulder, not aiming in any way. Julia Trulia watched as the stone flew in a lazy arc, sailing through the air, and landing squarely upon the cat’s head. It hissed and purred and scampered into a corner. Cariad walked over, picked him up, rubbed and kissed him, then removed the cloth.

“Sorry babe, I had to prove a point,” she mewed.

“So the cloth is cursed?” deduced Julia Trulia.

“Yep. Every time I wore a dress, a mishap occurred. As soon as the dress was, um, removed, my luck instantly changed for the better.”

“Oh my. That dastardly dressmaker,” sighed the duchess. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ve already done it. I’ve got him downstairs at my mercy. So if you excuse me for a moment, I am off to torture a dressmaker.”

Cariad whisked herself away, down the stairs to the dungeon. There, in a cell at the end of a dark corridor, was Edmund. His arms and neck were in a pillory, he was wearing a dirty-green smock made from Cariad’s last dress, and his legs were spread wide apart by a wooden block.

“I-I can explain,” were his first words.

“Explain?” asked Cariad softly. “What is there to explain?”

“I… oh.”

She paced around him, walking in and out of his line of sight. “Were you going to tell me that you had cursed my dresses, putting me in mortal peril, and indirectly giving a cat a headache?”

“I… what? What cat? No, I did curse the dresses, yes, but… AaaaaaaaaaaaAAAA!”

He was cut off in mid sentence by the burning sensation that roared across his backside. Cariad held a brander in her hand, and looked down at her work. An ornate “C” sizzled upon Edmund’s left buttock.

“Mmm,” she purred. “I love the smell of burning flesh. I think I interrupted you there – you had just said ‘but’.”

“But? But. But it was you who wronged me,” cried Edmond. “You paid me for two dresses, when I had made you three.”

Cariad stepped back, astonished. She could not believe the sheer effrontery of the man. “And for that, you cursed me? You didn’t just ask me to pay you for the third dress? Besides, it was a three-for-two offer that you gave me, remember? You told me that when you were measuring my nipples, remember.”

“Oh. Shit, yeah. I forgot. Wha-what’s that? NyAAAaaaAAA!”

A second bright red “C” was burnt into Edmund’s flesh.

“Now. You are going to make me three more dresses, and I shall pay you for each of them. You are a fantastic dressmaker, sir, and I respect your abilities. Tell you what, let’s make it an even dozen, just in case Senor Clouto gets excited and tears them a little.”

Cariad shuddered at a happy image raced through her mind – she was in the pillory instead of Edmund, and it was Senor Clouto who was in her position. In her mind, he did not have a branding iron in his hand. No. In one hand, he held his manhood. His other hand was stroking her tender cheek, dipping a gentle finger into her mouth, encouraging her to moisten her lips in preparation for the job he had in mind for her.

She snapped out of her reverie. “Well, are you going to make me these dresses or not?”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

Cariad padded in front of Edmund, her flimsy petticoats wafting an inch in front of his face. She bent over him, and stared deeply into his eyes. “You don’t just make dresses, do you?” she purred. “Because I would love to meet my Senor Clouto in a tight, tight soldier’s uniform.”

Edmund gurgled.

“And it would be one of your specials too, tight around the breast, supportive, and matched with a tiny little matching skirt. Can you make them?”

“O-of course, and I promise not to curse them or anything,” whined Edmund. Then, just as he was on the verge of passing out, he added “I think I need to take some new measurements, though.”

“Of course,” grinned Princess Cariad, dipping the branding iron into the hot coals for a third time. “You have to do your job properly, don’t you?”

The End.

[Qmoq]

Any feedback is welcome!

Thanks again to Ed, Julie_Truly, Colin_Clout and especially Cariad for agreeing to be in this story.

Q xx

[Julie-Truly]

This is the most insulting trash that has been written about me in hours!!! I did not agree to be in this and resent that I am portrayed as vain, dumb and slutty! I have talked to my lawyers about suing for slander! They had the nerve to tell me that the truth is a defense to slander but they will try to find a loophole!

P.S. It was sort of funny, wasn't it?

[Uncle_Ed]

Q,

A brilliantly funny piece! Thanks very much for your hard work-I'm sure I'll never be allowed to forget the image of me in the pillory. And just as I thought I was earning some respect!

Ed. (standing)

By the way-Julie-Truly, have you got the phone number of that lawyer?

[cariad]

Princess Cariad stood before the mirror feeling rather pleased with her uniform, and gave an excited little wiggle as she thought of how Senor Clouto would react when he saw her in it. She did wonder if it really was necessary for her to stand on the table for quite so long as Ed stitched up the hem around her short skirt, although she accepted his assurance that a craftsmen needed to make sure that everything was just right.

As she waited she summonized her royal scribe Q asking him to open the honour scroll and add the following entries:

Duchess Julie Truly: For services in defense of the Princess’ body, and assurance that her head will never be chopped from her shoulders, and the additional title DT (Duchess Tart)

Edmundo: Appointed as chief dressmaker to the Princess, duties to include creating dresses for all state occasions and an endlessly changing variety of uniforms for the princess to wear before Senor Clouto.

Qmoq: For creative services way beyond the call of duty; the golden feather, and the princess' never ending admiration.

Senor Clouto: For……..and as the princess thought of the services she hoped the Senor would provide to the royal body when he saw her in her little soldier uniform she swooned and collapsed into Edmundo’s arms.

[jennyfer]

Oh Q that was wonderful!

[cariad]

This story was:
written by DominantDog aka Domontop
edited by Uncle Ed
and posted by me

Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away-well in the mid west of England really; there lived a right nice bit of stuff called Princess cariad, or “Oi you!” as some admirers would say. Many a boy had nearly gone blind thinking of her ankles peeking from her shortest skirts. She had most impressive buttocks and huge eyes that were clear and square. Well they were impressive anyway. She had long black hair that shone, long legs, fingers, ears, nose, and such a long neck that prince sublimey, her cousin, painted barber shop pole stripes on it to stop birds roosting there.

She would walk about her Fathers kingdom (which Mummy had got into the routine of recarpeting every three weeks) righting wrongs And protecting the village people from marauding gangs of rude Unregisterds, who would carry away the towns folk and ask if they had any knickers on! Or other ghastly torments like saying suck my polos. Cariad would wave her wand and a chill wind would sweep them away. She would calmly grind some coffee beans and wave her coffee mug-the baddies didn’t stand a chance.

Now one day princess cariad was directing her gardener who was painting the thousand acre lawn with baby bio. As she handed him one of her special coffees her attention was drawn by a pencil to a curious thing in the garden next door. She shuddered; it was the garden of the evil sisters SUCKAMINT and MINTY LOU. They had brought from the finest Argos in the land a fine green and orange see- saw swing set. "HOW PERFECTLY AWFUL” Said Princess cariad “IT ALMOST SPOILS MY DAY!" But she didn’t half fancy a quick go on it! At that moment the sisters appeared swinging and sliding and cackling. Princess cariad turned away “DRAT” She thought “I WILL HAVE A GO”. And with that she froze an Unreg who was creeping away and vanished in a puff of blue smoke.

That night cariad lay and pondered her terrible craving for a slide and a quick swing. "Right I’m doing it" she said and slipped on her motorbike boots, fishnets and leotard and put her hair in a bun (or a bread role I’m not sure which) she paused to slip her giant canvas daytime skirt on in case anyone should see her legs. She slipped on a blouse and she crept out. Mummy’s snores were vibrating Daddy out of bed again and she giggled as she heard the thumps! She leapt over the fence and was soon swinging away “wheeeeeeeeeeee this is what common people must like doing” she thought as her skirts flew up as she went down the slide. “wheeeeeee” as she swung back and forward on the swing.

Suddenly to her horror she saw the evil sisters minty and minty-lou standing there with real angry faces! “WICKED CHILD” Said minty and cuffed minty-lou. “OI SLUT DONT CUFF ME” Said minty-lou and thumped minty!
“ENOUGH” Said cariad, “GET ON WITH THE STORY!” ...and with that she soon found herself locked in a 50 ft tower. "Bother" said Princess cariad as she only had the Daily Mail to read and couldn’t face any more Hot Wings and Micro Chips, which were all the wicked sisters gave her. She sat at the window wailing and grinding her teeth on a convenient grindstone. “Oh woe is me! Please help I have a church meeting at seven and I want to flash my eyes at the vicar! He’s lush you see.”

At that very moment just below her window, handsome prince Rupert was walking by. Looking up he saw Princess cariad and became extremely excited. He said to her “Hello there, I’m a big bear!".
”Pardon?” said cariad.
"You seem to be stuck. That’s terrible luck." He replied.
"Are you on drugs or something?” asked cariad".
“No wouldn’t you know it? I’m Rupert the poet!" said Rupert.
"You’re weird and creepy” said cariad. “Now get me out of this mess!”
"Madam don’t worry you’ll be free in a hurry!” Cried Rupert.
“Thank goodness!” said cariad “What will you do?"
“I have an idea but you might think its queer!” He said.
Cariad rolled her eyes, picked them up and put them back in! “GET ON WITH IT!” She cried

"Throw down your hair to Rupert the bear" He cried.
“What; what; what?” She screamed and he replied
”You may think it manic but madam don’t panic! Throw all your hair to that point over there"
“OK” Thought cariad. “Here goes!” and she shaved all her hair off and packed it into 25 kg bundles and threw them at the horrified bear. "BOMBS AWAY!” She cried,
Rupert was flabbergasted. In fact his gast had never been so flabbered! "You’re such a dunce I’m leaving at once.” He said "You’ll not escape any wicked witch You cut it all off you deserve a good switch!"
"What?” said cariad.
“Still attached when its sent Is what this bear meant” said Rupert
"OH no!” cried cariad ”You never said that! What now?"

Suddenly Rupert had an idea.” I HEAR YOU’RE A GIRL WHOSE ANKLE FLASH FLIRTS AND IS ALWAYS DRESSED IN LONG SKIRTS?”
"YES YES ! I DO I DO” Said cariad
”THEN THROW IT DOWN HERE AND I WILL APPEAR" Said Rupert.
“HOOORAY” Shouted cariad and began bailing out thousands of meters of silk down to the waiting bear, who was beside her in seconds.”Lets go” she said.

But Rupert had other ideas "Its all your fault I got stuck in this farce The least you could do is to show me your arse!"
“What do you mean you perverted bear?”
Rupert smiled and said “I’m trying to forge a sweet alliance Now drop your knickers it’s not rocket science!"

[maddie]

Jumping on the bandwagon that left town ages ago. Many thanks to those named herein for their permission, particularly Uncle Ed, for he is most certainly not a villain. Big thanks to Qmoq for catching all my errors.

My Fairy Story -- copyright 2006 by Maddie Mae


Once upon a time, there was a fair maiden named Maddie. She had been born into a family of considerable wealth and standing in her small town. When she was but five years of age, her mother and father died, leaving her to the care of her aunt and uncle. Aunt Cariad was patient and kind; she taught Maddie all the things a fair maiden needed to know. Uncle Colin made sure that Maddie was well-cared for, taught her to read and write, and made sure that Maddie's fortune was safe.

Maddie blossomed under their care and it was with great happiness that they watched her grow from precocious child to fair young maiden. Maddie's special talent was weaving and she could expertly work the loom, placing threads just so to create beautiful cloth.

One sunny day, Maddie headed to the meadow to collect wildflowers. She wandered, searching for just the right flowers. As she bent over to pick some daisies, she saw a shadow approach. Hastily, she stood and turned, dropping her flowers. Standing before her was a most handsome man, and Maddie's breath was taken away. She could feel her face warming and wondered what it was about this stranger that made her blush.

"Please forgive me, m'lady." The stranger bent down and gathered Maddie's flowers, then handed them to her.

"Th-th-thank you, kind sir," Maddie managed to say.

"A fair maiden such as yourself should not be in this meadow alone. There is much danger here of late. Please allow me to escort you to your home." He bowed deeply.

Maddie instinctively felt that she could trust the stranger and allowed him to escort her back home. As they walked, they spoke of literature and music. All too soon, they arrived at Colin and Cariad's house. Colin met them at the door. The men tipped their hats to each other.

"Maddie, please go inside," Colin said. Maddie obeyed, stealing one last glance at the handsome stranger on her way in, vowing to always remember what he looked like. Colin and the stranger walked off. That night, nothing was said of the stranger and Maddie decided it would be unwise to ask her uncle what he had spoken of with the man.

Three days later, Cariad asked Maddie to fetch some flour and eggs from market. Maddie set off with her basket and was approaching the market when hands reaching out from an empty building roughly grabbed her and pulled her inside. Before she knew what was happening, the poor girl had been bound with her hands behind her back and blindfolded. She could feel a knife near her throat.

"Not a peep, young maiden. Not one."

She felt arms around her shoulders and bottom; her feet left the floor and she was tossed over someone's shoulder. After being carried a short distance, she was dropped onto something hard. She could feel a blanket cover her. Suddenly, there was an abrupt jerk and she realized she'd been dropped into a wagon that was now moving. Slowly, tears began to trickle from her blindfolded eyes.

The rocking of the wagon lulled Maddie to sleep after some time. She woke when the wagon stopped. She was still and quiet, focusing on any sound she heard. Soon, the blanket was lifted and she was again picked up and carried. After a few moments, she could hear the sound of footsteps on wood and realized she was inside a building. Abruptly, Maddie was deposited on her feet again and the blindfold ripped off her head.

As her eyes adjusted to the light in the room, Maddie realized that she was alone in what looked like a dining hall. After a few minutes, she decided to walk around and look at the room. She saw a long table with just two chairs. There were two place settings, one at each chair.

"Sit."

Maddie started at the booming voice from behind her.

"Do not make me tell you a second time."

A tall man strode into the room. He wore black boots, a black leather vest, white shirt, and black pants. Maddie hastily sat on the chair nearest her. He was immaculately groomed, with a well-kept beard and neatly trimmed red hair. The man walked over to her, untied her hands and retied them in front of her. He walked toward the other end of the table, picked up a small bell, and rang it, then seated himself.

Almost instantly, a man entered the room, carrying two plates. He placed one in front of the man, the other by Maddie. The tall man began to eat. After a few bites, he looked up to see Maddie had not touched her food. "You'd best eat now. There'll be no food till breakfast."

Maddie looked down at her hands.

"EAT!!" he thundered.

Maddie picked up the fork and began eating as well as she could. She dropped some food in her lap and leaned forward a bit to keep anything that fell off her fork on her plate. The food was excellent, but she was too nervous to eat much.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, the tall man looked at Maddie again. He began to speak.

"My name is Sloth, Edmundo Sloth. I have heard that you are the finest weaver in the land. I need your services."

"But, sir, you did not need to take me by force."

"Not for this. I insist on only the finest material. I know that you have the skill to make it. You must make cloth that will not rip. I must have cloth that will not rip for when I fight dragons."

Maddie paled. "Sir, this is not possible."

"You will MAKE it possible! Or you will not leave here!"

"Like you're going to stop me. Just tying my wrists together isn't going to do that." Maddie rose and began to walk toward the door.

"I would not take another step if I were you," Edmundo hissed quietly.

She whirled to look at him. "Oh? Who's going to stop me?" Edmundo snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. He clapped his hands. Still nothing. Maddie turned to walk off. Edmundo yelled, "Hey! Stop her! She's leaving!"

Two men entered the room. They grabbed Maddie by the arms.

"Take her to the dungeon!" Edmundo thundered.

The men dragged Maddie away, kicking and screaming. Edmundo followed and watched the men as they stripped Maddie's dress from her and chained her to a wall, hands in manacles just below shoulder level, ankles cuffed about shoulder-width apart. Edmundo took a moment to admire her heaving breasts and the indignant look on her face.

"You can scream all you like. Nobody will hear you."

"That's what they all say," Maddie muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Edmundo ordered the other men to leave. He paced around the room. Finally, he approached her, carrying a wad of cloth and a flogger. He laid them on a table near Maddie and said, "Think well on what I ask you. I shall see you in the morning." He turned and left the room.

Maddie was able to doze on and off that night, never really sleeping soundly. It was during one of those moments when she dozed that Edmundo entered the dungeon. He quietly walked up to her and picked up the flogger. He smacked her thighs with it.

"OW! Hey! What'd you do that for? I was sleeping!"

"It is time for you to go to your loom. Are you prepared?"

"I told you. What you ask for is impossible. I cannot make cloth that will not rip."

"You can, and you will." He picked up some rope and released her arms, tying her wrists together behind her. He led her up two flights of stairs to a small room with a loom and large barrels of thread. He shoved her into the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Maddie could hear a latch turn.

Maddie stared at her surroundings. She could feel her spirits drop as she wondered what would happen to her when Edmundo returned and she had not been able to produce cloth that would not rip, she heard a small voice.
"You can do it."

Maddie looked around. In a corner of the room, she spotted a black cat with delicate white-tipped paws. Surely, the cat could not be speaking to her. I must be delusional, she thought, to think a cat is talking to me. But when she heard the voice again, she realized it did come from the cat.

"I say, you can do it."

"But how? Can you tell me?"

The cat licked its paws. "I could tell you. But I require payment."

"Anything!" Maddie dashed over to the cat, kneeling before it. "I'll give you anything as soon as he lets me go."

"That's not good enough."

Maddie was puzzled. "But I am being held captive here! I cannot get you anything."

The cat stared at her. "I want white chocolate. In large quantities. Now. Tell him you will need it to make the cloth."

Maddie was convinced she was hearing voices. What would a cat do with white chocolate? Before she could ask, the cat ran through a hole in the wall and disappeared.

Maddie pounded on the door. Soon, Edmundo entered the room. "What? Why do you disturb me when you have not woven any cloth?"

"I. . . I need something. White chocolate. Lots of it," she stammered.

"White chocolate? Whatever do you need white chocolate for?" Edmundo stared at her as if she were truly insane.

"I need it so that I can make the cloth so it won't rip. It's a weaving thing. Really."
Edmundo looked at her doubtfully and said, "Fine. You'll have it within the hour." He slammed the door shut.

After an hour passed, Edmundo returned with the white chocolate. He dropped a barrel of it in the room, looked at Maddie, who smiled hopefully at him, and left, shaking his head. Maddie ran to the barrel and lifted the lid. It was full of white chocolate.

"Is that my white chocolate?"

Maddie turned at the sound of the voice. "Yes, it is. But I'm still puzzled. What would a cat do with white chocolate?"

As she spoke, she saw dazzling lights around the cat. Soon, she realized there was no cat anymore, but a magical-looking creature, a sparkly fairy-like being with no wings, wearing a "UK Girls Rock" t-shirt and jeans. "I am Suchaminx. Sit at your loom. As you weave, the cloth will become indestructible."

Maddie looked at Suchaminx doubtfully, but sat down and began to weave. Suchaminx flittered over to the white chocolate and began to eat from the barrel. Maddie wove for hours, creating beautiful cloth while Suchaminx watched, nibbling on her white chocolate. Finally, the thread was all used. Suchaminx pulled a wand out of her back pocket and waved it over the fabric. She then waved her wand at the barrel of white chocolate and both she and the barrel disappeared. At that moment, Edmundo returned.

"I see you have completed today's work. Come. You may eat and then you will spend the night in the dungeon again."

"But I've done as you asked. You have yards and yards of fabric here! You don't need me anymore."

"Oh, but I do. I think it's time Sloth Industries takes over the cloth market. And you're going to make that possible." He dragged her by her arm down the stairs to the dining room, where he pushed her into a chair at the table. Maddie picked at her food, saddened that she would not be released. When Edmundo finished his dinner, he tied Maddie's hands together again and took her to the dungeon.

Maddie stopped just inside, looked around the dungeon, and sighed. Edmundo pushed her toward the wall and chained her as he had the night before. Instead of leaving, he picked up the flogger again. He leaned on a nearby table.

"Perhaps tonight I should begin teaching you to properly obey me. Maybe I'll make you my mistress, in addition to my weaver." He picked up the flogger, caressing the leather strips as he advanced on her.

Maddie's eyes widened. She raised her chin. "I. . . um. . . What did you have in mind?"

Edmundo stopped in his tracks. He blinked a few times, frowned, then said, "I shall keep you in my dungeon at night, have my way with you when I please, and, when you misbehave, I shall take great pleasure in using this flogger on those milky white legs of yours."

Maddie nodded thoughtfully. "So there'd be tying up of me, right?"

Edmundo nodded. "Of course. That goes with being my captive."

After a bit of consideration, Maddie said, "OK."

Somewhat startled, Edmundo said, "I'm sorry?"

"I said, 'OK'. When do we start?"

Delighted, Edmundo smiled and raised the flogger. "You don't mind pain, do you?"

"Never tried it. Willing to, though. But could you scratch my nose first? I can't reach it. Oooh. That's it. Thanks!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Maddie saw movement. Sneaking down the stairs was the handsome stranger. He raised a finger to his lips and waved his hand at her.

Maddie shook her head. The handsome stranger motioned again, waving his hands frantically, trying to indicate that Maddie should not let on that he was approaching. Maddie shook her head, waved her hand to dismiss the handsome stranger, and turned back to Edmundo. "So what do you do with that?" she asked.

The handsome stranger picked up a long, thin piece of wood, aimed it at a rock on the floor, and thwacked the rock in the direction of a statue of a gnome. The stone caromed off the gnome's head and hit Edmundo in the back of the head, knocking him out.

The handsome stranger dropped the wood and dashed over to Maddie, falling to one knee before her.

"Fair Maddie! I am so pleased that you are safe!" He released her from her chains, grasped her hand in his and kissed it.

"Safe? I was safe already! Did you think I was being held against my will?"

"Well, you were in chains . . . and he had that whip . . ." The handsome stranger looked puzzled.

Maddie snorted derisively. "Duh. Because it was *fun* And it was a flogger, not a whip!" She turned and stormed off. Before she knew it, a hand grabbed her wrist and jerked her around again. She could see an evil glint in the handsome stranger's eyes.

"Is that so?"

Maddie faltered for a moment. "Well. Well, yes. It was fun. And now you've gone and knocked him out!" They looked over to the spot on the floor where Edmundo lay. He was just beginning to stir and moaned loudly, gently touching the back of his head.

The handsome stranger looked at Maddie as if he were thinking hard. He grabbed her arm and led her out of the building, picked her up and placed her on his horse, then got on in front of her and rode off, speaking not one word until they arrived at her home. As they dismounted, Colin and Cariad ran outside and welcomed Maddie joyfully. After embracing Maddie, Colin turned to the handsome stranger.

"Good Qmoq, I thank you for bringing back my niece. You must allow us to repay you in some way."

"Give me her hand in marriage. And the rest of her, too"

Colin's smile faltered. "Sir, that is too much of a price to ask. I fear I cannot comply."

"Besides. What makes you think I'd have you?" Maddie demanded.

Qmoq, for that was the handsome stranger's name, leaned over and whispered into Maddie's ear, "You think that guy had a well-stocked dungeon?" She nodded. "Nothing compared to mine."

"I'll take him, Uncle."

They were married a month later. They lived happily ever after, much of which time Maddie was chained to something.

[Uncle_Ed]

Ha! Another budding writer!

Well done maddie! You saw through me and through my disguise! *disappears in a flourish of cloak and twist of moustache...*

[Qmoq]

Lovely work, young maddie :)

Keep it up! And if you carry on writing like that, I'll have no problem keeping it up.

Q xx

[cariad]

smiling - I did enjoy reading it dear neice, Uncle and I are both very proud of you.

cariad

[ColinClout(c)]

maddie, thank you so much - a wonderful story (even if Uncle Colin sounds rather more sensible and nice than me), great fun to read, and I hope the first of many. Keep it up!

CC

[suchaminx]

maddie

I love being your cat ~smiles~ and thank you for the barrel of chocolate

minx xxx

[maddie]

You are quite welcome, minx. You were the only person I thought of for the job.

Thanks again, y'all, for the nice comments. I do appreciate it.