Chapter 4

Callum the Huntsman sits by his hearth, brooding. Through his cabin window, in the distance, the gilded towers and turrets of the Royal Palace rise gleaming, their flags fluttering in the warm spring breeze. From the stone walls and oak rafters of his cabin hang the tools of his trade: bows and arrows, axes and knives, skins and heads of deer and rabbits.

Callum broods. And the object of his contemplation is Snow White. Since he waved her off towards the Great Forest, he has been unable to forget her. In his mind’s eye he sees her smile, gracious and winning, filling the space with light and joy: helplessly, he smiles back at his imagined Princess, before reality intrudes on his fantasy and pulls him back to the present. “Damn,” he mutters. “Will ye be all right, Princess?”

Soon he is remembering again the more carefree times, before the good King died and his evil widow came to the Throne. He remembers watching from the edge of the Palace courtyard as the Princess played in the gardens, fashioning daisy chains on the lawn, playing pooh-sticks on the bridge, giggling and laughing and singing with her animal friends as they chattered and chirruped around her. He had so wanted to join her, to hear her funny priggish royal voice speak to him, ask him to join in. He imagines her squeaking at him, “I say, young man, would you mind awfully fetching me that stick from the stream, there’s a good fellow...” But that could never have been, for, as she never tired of singing, someday her Prince would come. And a mere Palace servant such as he must accept his lot in life.

But now he remembers her at their last encounter, on a daffodil-strewn hillock in the woods, grinning cheekily at him as her pink virgin cunt gleamed and glistened, her fingers squelching into that warm bubbling space between her outer lips, her intact maidenhood teasing, stretching, tantalising. Mindlessly, Callum pops open the buttons on his trousers and releases his penis – already stiff and throbbing at the thought of the lovely Princess. “Oh, Snow White,” he moans, as he begins to stroke his shaft, slowly but firmly, and the image of her glistening cunt continues to fill his mind’s eye. And then he remembers her anus, stretched open by her delicate fingers into a gorgeous gape, the sunlight glimmering off the interior of her rectal cavity, as her pinched royal voice calls out, “I swear to you, my Royal Cuntsman, that the next time we meet, you may fuck the Royal Arse!”

“Fuck the Royal Arse,” echoes Callum to himself under his breath, “fuck the Royal Arse – oh Princess, you are joy and light and beauty! Forgive me...” His cock explodes, semen squirting desperately from his glans and spattering over his deerskin rug.

He surveys the mess, dissatisfied. That was pleasurable, to be sure, he thinks to himself, but not so pleasurable as to compensate for the lack of her. “God, keep her safe!” he mutters. “And may the time come when this accursed Queen is gone, and Snow White can render goodness and joy to this Kingdom once more...”

“Someday my Prince will come, “ warbles Snow White, as she stands at the sink in her Cottage washing up. It is a fine sunny morning, and her forest friends are gathered at the kitchen window to hear her sing and chat, and to admire her winsome beauty.

“What fun I am having here!” exclaims the Princess to her friends. “I am so glad you found this place for me, or, good heavens, how ever would I have survived in that Forest all alone!” The animals nod and bow.

“Of course, I really must continue my journey to the Far Kingdom, where I will be completely safe. But I’m sure a couple of nights in this Cottage can’t hurt, can they? I mean, those Magic Dildos are quite the bonus, aren’t they?” she giggles. “Shame they disappear at dawn – or I am quite sure I would spend the whole day getting fucked, as well as all night!” She yawns. “Oh see – I am quite worn out! And won’t it be jolly when I’m no longer a virgin, and they can fuck my cunt as well!” She giggles, and her friends laugh and gambol about sympathetically. “I do declare, though, it’s going to be jolly difficult finding a Prince to merry out here in the woods, so I suppose I’ll just have to get used to sticking large objects up my bottom instead, until I make it to the Far – ohhh!!!”

Snow White stops in shock, for suddenly, outside her window, there appears an unknown woman, tall, dark-haired, with a stern but handsome air, wearing a long black cloak and carrying a large wicker panier. “Good morning, fair maid,” intones the woman in a deep velvety voice.

“Oh!” gasps the Princess. “Who are you? I didn’t know anyone else lived out here in the woods – apart from the Seven Dildos, of course. Are you one of their friends...?” She notices that all her animal friends seem to have suddenly disappeared – but thinks nothing of it.

“I am a Magician,” says the woman, her voice deep and seductive, “a Sorceress wishing to share my pleasure-bringing magic with you poor and painful peasantry. See what beauteous wares I can offer you!” She removes the checked cloth covering her basket to reveal a gleaming pile of fresh fruit: apples, bananas, peaches, plums, and deep red raspberries glistening with morning dew. “Would you like some?” she leers.

“Oh, they do look lovely,” smiles Snow White. “But you know, I am hardly ‘poor and painful’: I am a Princess on the run, actually. And I never carry silver or gold; I rely on my court minions to provide such things – and there aren’t any of them here now. So I couldn’t possibly pay you,” she explains earnestly. “What’s more, this house belongs to the Seven Dildos – and they only come out at night...”

“Oh, that is no obstacle,” chuckles the woman warmly. “I am happy to let you try some of my magic wares free of charge. See, for example, this plum: doesn’t it look delicious?” She waves the fruit before Show White’s eyes and, indeed, it does seem irresistible: soft, juicy, gleaming, with an intoxicating perfume which fills the Princess’ nostrils and sends her head reeling.

“Ohhhh,” moans Snow White, “that smells jolly nice!” Instinctively, she parts her soft red lips, allowing the Sorceress to reach in through the kitchen window and gently stroke them with the deep purple surface of the plum. Her mouth begins to water, and the growing dampness on her lips makes the plum gleam and glisten yet more. The Sorceress applies gentle pressure to the enchanted fruit, and deep red juice flows onto Snow White’s lips, dribbling down her chin.

“Oh, I say,” pants Snow White. “That is utterly divine!” She extends her tongue, parting her lips to squeeze harder, so that the whole fruit bursts and smears over her lips, mouth and chin, juice dripping onto her dress. “Oh, but what a mess I have made of my clothes. And I’ve no lady-in-waiting here to clean it for me! Whatever shall I do?”

“Never mind your dress,” intones the Sorceress. “Leave it where it falls, and come out here to me,” she chants. Her voice echoes in Snow White’s head: “After all, wouldn’t you like some more ... more ... more...?”

A loud series of knocks wakens Callum from his post-onanic reverie. “Come in!” he calls, hastily stuffing his softening penis back into his trousers – only to find his cabin door flung open to reveal a detachment of guards, led by none other than the Captain of the Palace Guard Sir John de Thomas. “Captain, Sir!” he exclaims, standing to attention and saluting. His fly is still unbuttoned.

“I am sorry, Callum,” frowns the Captain, his eyes darting briefly from the open fly down to the freshly soiled deerskin rug and back to the Huntman’s face, “but I am under orders from the Queen to arrest you, on charges of attempting to deceive the Crown. You must come with me at once, to the Dungeons.”

Snow White stands naked on the grass before the Cottage of the Seven Dildos, plum juice smeared on her face and dripping off her chin onto her full breasts. “Oh, truly you are beautiful, Princess,” pants the Sorceress under her breath. “The Mirror was right.”

“Mirror?” asks Snow White, bewildered and disorientated, as she feels her lips and nipples tingle with desire.

The Sorceress waves the question away with her hand. “Never mind!” she chuckles, her deep voice burrowing into Snow White’s consciousness. “Look instead at this!” She holds up a peach: glowing in the sunlight, its scent is rich, sweet and powerful – and the Princess wants it, desires it, needs it.

“Give it me!” trembles Snow White, parting her lips wide even as she reaches for the soft fruit with her hand. The Sorceress lets the ripe peach drop into Snow White’s delicate pale palm. The Princess squeezes it, feels the juice run down her arm, then plasters it over her face and breasts, before reaching down to rub the soft yellow flesh into her vulva. “Good Lord!” she cries, as unalloyed pleasure takes hold of her whole being, “Gratias agimus tibi propter labia maiora tua!” she squeals, pressing peach-flesh into her tits and cunt and collapsing to her knees in magical ecstasy.

The Sorceress laughs with delight. She casts her cloak off to reveal her naked body – hair black, skin pale, lips red as the rose, but still magically unrecognisable by the Princess. Her breasts are full on her slender body – but the girl’s attention is drawn to the long, thick, stiff penis now bulging from the Sorceress’ crotch: throbbing, tumescent, powerful. “O Sorceress, O Magician,” she gasps, pointing to the magic futa-cock, already dripping with translucent pre-cum, “I didn’t know that you could ... you could ... ohhh...” Snow White’s sentence disintegrates into a moan of desire as, continuing to rub her nectar-sweetened clit and paw at her own fruit-spattered breasts, she shuffles forward on her knees, lips parted, tongue drooling.

The Magician grabs a handful of raspberries from her magic basket and squeezes them over her thick shaft, so that her whole cock is now dripping with sweet red enchanted juice. She reaches for the back of Snow White’s head and urges it forward questioningly.