This post is graphic in content with torture and non-consensual sex…do not read if you are easily offended.
The doorbell rang and I opened it. What beautiful children greeted me here. Two little girls, one in her priceless Brownie outfit holding hands with a girl in her green Girl Scout skirt. Their uniforms had been pressed and their little button badges sewn with loving care on their sashes. They were delicious.
I looked at them. “Well hello.” The grin on my face stretched from ear to ear. How I loved little girls. They are full of such promise.
I leaned forward and brushed a curl away from the Brownie’s face. Behind them, waiting protectively on the curb, a mother waited. I raised my hand and waved. She returned my gesture with one of her own. So friendly. I glanced at her beautiful children.
“What can I do for you today? Are you sure you should be out? The weatherman said there’s going to be a storm.”
The girl dressed in green grasped her sister’s hand. “We’re selling Girl Scout cookies, Sir. Would you like to buy some? Mama says we have a little while before the storm and we have a quota to reach.” He loved the way her mouth worked out the unfamiliar sounds of the word ‘quota.’
“A quota? I’d love to buy some,” I pitched my voice high as I brought my hands to my chest knowing it would make the girls smile. The Brownie giggled. I gave her a wink. “I love Girl Scout cookies. Please tell me you have Thin Mints. I love Thin Mints.”
The Girl Scout’s smile brightened her pinched expression, but it was her sister who answered. Her little lisp made me swell with anticipation.
“Yesss, sssir. We have Thin Mintsss. Would you like sssome?”
I leaned forward and inhaled her warm innocent scent. Her sister drew back from me. I was a little irritated, but her reaction was not unexpected. They all did that once they got a little older. I ignored the older girl. “I would love some Thin Mints. May I please have ten boxes?”
“Ten boxesss, sssir?” The little girl’s brown eyes brightened. She jumped up and down.
“Oh, yes. Ten.” I fished into my wallet and pulled out two fifties. “Here, this should cover it.”
The little girl screwed her face up as she tried to do the math. “It’s five dollarsss a box, sssir. That’s fifty dollarsss.”
I tweaked her nose and grinned. “Fifty for the cookies and fifty for your girl scout troop.” I pointed to her mama standing on the curb. “You tell your mama to take you girls somewhere extra special. Good girls deserve special treats don’t you think?”
Overhead the skies seemed to darken as the promised storm clouds rolled in. I just loved thunder storms in the springtime.
“Oh, yesss, ssssir,” said the little Brownie.
Her sister crossed her arms over her chest. “I need to check if we have ten boxes.”
I handed the Brownie the cash but it was her older sister who yanked it out of my hands. Definitely someone who needed a spanking, but they all did, didn’t they?
“I’ll wait here,” I said. “Go get my cookies while I chat with your sister.”
The Girl Scout glanced between me and her sister. She screwed her lips, twisting them into a frown. “Anna, go get the cookies. I’ll wait here.”
Anna looked displeased to leave me, but at the stern look of her sister she decided to obey. More’s the pity. Anna was cute, innocent, and untouched. Perhaps her sister was as well, but girls grew up so fast these days.
I wondered how old she was, twelve perhaps? A bit too young for my tastes, but in a few years, once she blossomed, I would certainly consider her to play one of my princesses. She would be delectable.
I wondered what she would look like with tears streaming down her cheeks. Or how luscious her screams would sound.
The girl and I traded an uncomfortable silence as her sister skipped her way down the path to the curb. Her mother’s face formed an ‘O’ of surprise and I thought of several ways to make use of that. At a look from her stern sister I silenced those thoughts and focused instead on Anna balancing ten boxes of Thin Mints in her arms.
“Sss…Sir,” said the little lisper, “your cookiesss.”
I relieved her of her burden and waved to the girls’ mother. “Thank you. I’m so happy you stopped by.” A light pattering of rain began to fall as they left me.
The little Brownie flapped her hand goodbye. The Girl Scout narrowed her eyes and turned in a huff. That was the problem with girls. So testy. Nothing a good dose of discipline couldn’t fix.
I learned that lesson from someone I respected, a legend of a man.
After watching the girls skip down my lawn, holding hands and giggling, I waved to their mother and shut the door. I carried the boxes into my kitchen and put all but one box in the freezer. Thin mints were best served cold. The tenth box I opened and pulled out the two sleeves of plastic wrapped cookies. I’d never been very good at denying myself anything. One of the stacks of Thin Mints made its way into the freezer, the other I ripped open and shoved two of the cookies into my mouth.
For a moment, a brief moment, I wondered if my pets might appreciate the cookies, but I discarded that thought. They had been very bad.
The first peals of thunder sounded from outside rattling the windows of the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of water and slung it under my arm. It was time to get back to my princesses. The storm would make them uncomfortable and scared.
Lightning lit up the sky outside my yard. The bright and sunny day had fled as the dark and foreboding clouds blocked the light from the sun.
I went down to the basement, opening and fastening the locks on my way. I went through the first door which led under the house, and then through the second door which stored my wine collection. I double checked each of the locks six times. It was good to be thorough. Satisfied all was well, I pushed aside the rack of wine revealing a small door just large enough to crawl through. This door had a combination. I locked this one behind me as well, spinning the dial on the combination lock six times. Then I turned and stood in the narrow tunnel I had dug out of the earth. Down the tunnel my princesses waited.
I flicked on the light switch. It illuminated my dungeon in a harsh and yet welcoming light. “Cinderella? Cinderella? Your Prince has returned.”
She sat on the bed glaring at me, which really was not the way to start one of our sessions. Why did she always misbehave like that?
“Is this how you greet your Prince Charming?” I walked up and slapped her face, leaving behind a red hand print and eliciting the most delicious scream.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, but I didn’t believe her so I slapped her again, and once more simply because it felt good. Whimpers sounded from the cages at the back of the room, but I didn’t spare a look. This was Cinderella’s time with her prince. I would get to the others later on.
Today was a special day. A commemoration of sorts. A memorial to a great man. I would take each of my six princesses tonight, in the same order he had. I wasn’t so wasteful of my princesses as he had been. That is where I disagree with his methods.
I coveted my girls, treasured them as the great gifts they were. I savored their gifts. I was responsible for them and it was my duty to make them behave, to serve me with the grace and joy only a true princess could claim. I ruled them as was right and true for a prince. We each understood our roles. They served me and in return I protected them, cherishing them as only a prince could do, teaching them so they could serve me as they were destined to do.
Cinderella had difficulty learning this simple lesson. But no matter. It was my pleasure to discipline her unruly ways. No one said a prince’s duty had to be unpleasant.
I stepped toward her and placed my fists on my hips. Her eyes widened until the whites showed all around. I shook my head letting her see my displeasure.
Brilliant blue eyes brimmed with tears and flicked up to mine before jerking away. She knew better than to look into my eyes. Tears fell from her eyes in fat juicy drops as she struggled to hold back her sobs. I would correct her error in a moment.
“Tsk, tsk,” I chided. “Your fairy godmother will be most displeased. You’re a mess. Not so pretty anymore.” I held a mirror to her face.
Black rivers of tears streamed down her cheeks. Dark mascara rimmed her eyes. That last slap smeared her ruby-red lipstick; the bright red smudge leaving a streak two shades brighter than that left by my palm over her cheek. Her golden curls spilled over her shoulders and I swiped them away from her bare breasts taking a moment to fondle them with my hands.
She hissed as I squeezed, making me tighten my fingers even harder just to watch pain blossom in her eyes. My hands left dark red splotches on her skin where my fingers dug in. “Are you allowed to make a sound?”
Her back arched against the wrought iron headboard. We had been through this and honestly I was tired of repeating myself. Training was such a difficult task, but fortunately for my princesses I had patience.
“My Prince, my prince,” she babbled, “I’m sorry.”
“As you should be.” My arousal grew. Was I ready so soon? I had just finished with the other. I narrowed my eyes. Why did this one stir my loins with such passion?
“Remember I don’t like your teeth scraping my skin. If you’re really, really good, I’ll only use the cane ten times instead of the twenty you deserve.”
Her eyes widened as fresh tears poured down her cheeks. I unfastened my pants. It was time for another lesson. She didn’t look too willing. That would have to change.
Her delicate hands opened and closed over her head where I’d bound them in thick leather. Ropes strung through the rings of the matching collar which held her head firmly in place so she couldn’t twist out of the way. Blood soaked the sheets beneath her where I had whipped her flawless skin, which was not so perfect anymore.
I pinched her cheeks with my fingers forcing her jaw wide. “Now open. It’s time to please your prince.”
Her eyes pinched shut as I leaned to the side of the bed. I had to get this on film, to document my journey. I flicked the record switch on the video camera.
I gripped her golden locks in my fingers and pulled. She dutifully opened her mouth.
I cared so much for my princess. I hoped she did well this time. I was her Prince and it was my job to make her into the best princess she could be. “Now, my princess, please me.”
Behind me Red Riding Hood sobbed. I ignored her. She had been placed back in her cage after a particularly satisfying beating. A sniffle came from Sleeping Beauty who I had strapped in the corner. Goldilocks was the only one of my girls with the sense to remain quiet, but then she was gagged. Gretel was still passed out in her cage. She had been the first of the evening. She fought me and I had been forced to take her harder than I would have liked.
I had yet to punish her, but first I needed release. Cinderella took me well, barely even gagged. Images of the two little girls flashed through my mind as Cinderella’s mouth enveloped me in liquid warmth. It was a shame they were too young. That Girl Scout had a lesson to learn and I so wanted to teach her how to turn that pinched, disapproving expression into the one on Cinderella’s face.
Belle, my beautiful Belle, was the only one of my princesses who remained dutifully silent while I made use of Cinderella. No gag required. She was cuffed, ankles and wrists, but they were not fastened together. Inside her cage she was not restrained. My first princess, Belle, understood how to behave. I would take her last.
Before Cinderella choked I pulled out to let her breathe. I needed her conscious for this. She was my favorite out of them all.
I popped a Thin Mint into my mouth. The savory flavors of chocolate and mint melted on my tongue as her delicious lips brought me pleasure so intense I passed out for a few seconds. I did that sometimes if my release was strong enough. It was my one flaw, but then every Prince has a weakness.
That was number two: Gretel first, then Cinderella. I had four more Princesses to take in honor of this very sad day. Belle would be the last. She had been my first, but she had been his last. I meant to honor the day taking them in the same order he had done, so Belle would have to wait.
A legend would die today, but I would carry on his torch. In his honor I would add one last princess to my collection. It was a fitting honor for his wife to serve as my Queen.