Chapter 2

“I say, why did Her Majesty send you with me today?” asks Snow White. She is indeed fair of face, with hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, and lips red as the rose. Her dress is pastel blue, and her smile and her laughter light up the forest glade. Her voice is pinched and nasal, in the best tradition of Anna Neagle, Pathé newsreels, Hello Children Everywhere – and the finest of royal princesses. A stream babbles through the clearing, ending in a small pond of clear blue water, still but for the occasional ripple caused by the flick of a fish tail.

The young Huntsman tries to appear unfazed by the question – but lying does not come easily to him. “She wants me to protect ye, to keep ye safe,” he says awkwardly, looking at his feet.

“You don’t say! Is that why you are carrying that huge axe?” replies the girl. (She pronounces “axe” a bit like “ex” – just as a princess should.) “To chop awff the head of anyone who threatens me?” She giggles artlessly, twirling her body, her arms outstretched so her skirt flares like a flower, her smooth face dappled by the sun shining through the leaves.

The Huntsman tries to chuckle with her. He is strong, young and handsome, captivated by the girl’s beauty, and dreading his assigned task. “By yer leave, ma’am, I’ll just go over the other side of that rise for a minute,” he blurts, “and check out the surroundings.”

“I say, shouldn’t you be staying here with me? You are supposed to be ‘protecting’ me, aren’t you?” giggles Snow White. She twirls a lock of her dark hair absent-mindedly.

“I won’t be long, yer ‘Ighness,” says the Huntsman, as he turns, frowning, and heads up a slope away from the glade.

“Toodle-pip,” calls the Princess, before giggling to herself, once the Huntsman is out of sight, “I’ll have to be jolly quick then, won’t I?” She lies down on a daffodil-strewn grassy mound and begins to sing – a sweet appoggiatura-laden soprano dominant seventh which echoes invitingly through the forest.

Her friends duly begin to gather: a flock of sparrows, a bevy of rabbits, a dray of squirrels, two young deer, a flight of sparrows – and a turtle. They form an affectionate circle around her, as she hitches up her skirt to reveal her soft thatch of pubic hair carefully trimmed into a dark triangle pointing the way to her tight pubescent pussy.

“Well, old chums, what of it, eh?” squeaks the girl. “I am all of sixteen now, and still a virgin! Shall I prove it you?” she giggles.

The deer nod solemnly, the rabbits and squirrels gambol about, and the birds chatter and chirp as they perch on the branches of a silver birch, looking down in expectation. The turtle watches studiously, as the girl licks her fingers and begins to gently lubricate her outer lips.

“You see,” explains Snow White, “these are my labia maiora. Sounds jolly important, doesn’t it – very High Church, don’t you think? Gratias agimus tibi propter labia maiora tua!” she intones in mock ecclesiastical tones. “Not at all difficult prising these apart: see how soft and puffy they are? That’s because I’m already feeling just a tiny bit excited! Soon they’ll be all swollen and pink!” She titters with delight, and her friends follow suit, chirping and chattering where they perch.

“But these,” continues the girl, “are my labia minora – and that’s something quite different entirely, because inside them is hiding this little flap of skin – see?” She stretches her inner lips wide to show off her intact hymen. “I say, do you realise” – Snow White licks her fingers again, slathering a large smear of saliva across her vulva – “that is what makes me a virgin: because no one has ever fucked my pussy before – isn’t that utterly champion?!” She giggles again – and her friends follow suit. “I know that doesn’t mean an awful lot to you – I mean, you rabbits are always at it like rabbits, aren’t you?” (The rabbits look sheepish.) “But for humans, especially for royalty like me, being a virgin is terribly important! No one is permitted to penetrate this pussy until I am properly married.” (She pronounces the word rather like “merried” – as a well brought-up Princess should.) “But then,” she continues, “my husband can stick his big hard cock in there, rupture my hymen, fill me up with his hot cum, and we will all live happily ever after – isn’t that simply spiffing!” She claps her hands in self-congratulation, and her menagerie of admirers hoot and chatter in appreciation.

Just over the rise, the Huntsman is spying out the lie of the land. The sky is clear, and he can see down the other side of the hill to where the Great Forest lies, wild and untamed. In the far distance, beyond the woods, there shine the glinting marbled towers of the Great City in the Far Kingdom. “There she could be safe,” he mutters to himself. “If I let ‘er go, she could live.”

The choice is easily made. He remembers his childhood, growing up a servant in the King’s household, admiring the Princess – a mere four years younger than he – from afar. As a child, so pretty and delightful; as a teenager sweet and elegant and graceful, even when her father the gracious King died and her foul stepmother became Queen. Even when all hope has been wrung out of the Kingdom, Snow White continues to exude light and life. “She must live,” resolves the young Huntsman, “for she is the only ‘ope our Land ‘as. And I could not bear to kill ‘er,” he sighs. With that, he abandons his axe on the grass of the hilltop and turns back towards the glade.

As he descends the slope, he hears the sound of singing, giggling and chattering. “Talking to herself and her forest friends, as usual,” he presumes. But as he approaches, he sees that things are not quite as usual as he imagined, for the Princess is reclining on a grassy mound, surrounded by daffodils, her long skirt hitched up to her waist, fingering her clitoris as she sings to her forest friends:

Someday my Prince will come...

before giggling, “Hee hee! ‘will come’ – get it? ‘will come’!” He laughter tinkles carillon-like though the forest.

“But,” continues the girl, “until I am merried and my husband gets to smesh my hymen to smithereens, I have to sadly make do with other forms of pleasure – isn’t that just beastly?” Her animal friends nod sagely, as the eavesdropping Huntsman’s penis begins to rise in his trousers. He can just see Snow White through the trees, and conceals himself behind a large oak to watch.

“So,” continues Snow White, “instead of sticking things in my pussy, I stroke my clit! See this little button here? If I rub it, it gets all swollen, and starts to feel jolly nice, I must say. Have a look, do!” Her friends nod again, as Snow White hawks a large gob of spit onto her clitoris and begins to rub it with a broad circular motion, until little squeaks of pleasure begin to emanate from her lips.

The Huntsman has his penis out now, and is slowly stroking it as he watches in rapt attention, thumb and two fingers of his right hand gently pulling his damp foreskin back and forth along his glans, whilst his left palm caresses his heavy testicles. “|I say,” says Snow White to her friends, “I think it looks jolly pretty when I rub my clit, don’t you? Because then one can see right into my pussy, without anything in the way. And one can watch it going all squishy and bubbly – isn’t that capital?” They chatter and chirp their approval.

“What about you, Mister Huntsman?” calls Snow White. “Don’t you think it’s jolly pretty too?!”

The Huntsman, behind his oak, freezes in horror, and his penis goes suddenly soft in his hand. He thought himself hidden, and now frantically tries to conceal himself yet more, desperately crouching down behind a bush and wincing as a thorn grazes his penis. Snow White giggles, “Silly chap! I can see you reflected in that pond. Are you watching me stroke my pussy? Does that make your cock terribly stiff?”

Torn between lust and terror, the young Huntsman does not know how to react. Flee? But then what about the Princess, so beautiful, so lovely, whom he has decided to save? And besides, her pussy shines and beckons with irresistible pubescent glory. His shaft starts to go hard again.

“Oh, do come out of there, Mister Huntsman, there’s a good chap!” calls Snow White. “No point in hiding now, what!” Trembling, he steps out into the glade and stands before his mistress, his stiff shaft throbbing and eager, his glans glistening with pre-cum. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he mutters half-heartedly.

“Oh look!” squeals the Princess, ignoring his apologetic air. “What a big cock you have, Huntsman! Well, bigger than Father’s was at any rate. Come closer, do – let me see, spit spot!” She beckons peremptorily.

The Huntsman waddles forward, his trousers bunched around his shins, his stiff penis waggling from side to side. The Princess giggles and claps her approval, as her circle of forest friends parts to allow the young man to approach. “What is your name, Huntsman?” asks Snow White, as she continues to absent-mindedly rub her vulva, three fingers gently squelching into the wet space between her outer pussy-lips. “I remember you from when I was little, lurking in the background in the Palace courtyard, watching me play. Your father was the King’s Chief Steward once, wasn’t he? What do they call you?”