Goose Girl (3 page)

Blow Conrad's tiny cock away,

And make him chase it here and there,

Until I have braided all my hair,

And bound it up today."

Sure enough, the lecherous wind blew and
blew Conrad's little dick, blew it so hard it flew off his body,
and the goose-boy ran after it. When he came back, Svana's hair had
been put up a long time and he could get none of it. After all that
running, and all that blowing, Conrad was too sleepy to argue. He
took a nap while the goose-girl looked after their flock ‘til
evening descended.

In the dusk, after they had got home, Conrad
went to the old king. Dolphus was busy watching the blacksmith with
his red-hot poker in hand. The boy took no notice and said, "I
won't tend the geese with that girl any longer."

"Why not?" inquired the aged king, stowing
his binoculars away.

"Oh, because she vexes me the whole day
long," Conrad replied.

The aged king commanded he relate what it
was about the girl that irked him so. Conrad said, "In the morning
when we pass beneath the dark gateway, there is a horse's head on
the wall, and she says to it,

"'Alas, Falada, hanging there.'

"And the head answers,

"'Alas, young queen, how ill you fare.

If this your mother knew

Her heart would break in two.'"

Conrad went on to relate what happened on
the goose pasture, and how he had been forced to chase his dick all
across the countryside. Well, this was a revelation for the aged
king, who commanded Conrad to drive his flock out again next day.
As soon as morning came, King Dolphus placed himself behind the
dark gateway, and heard how the maiden spoke to the head of Falada.
He went into the country, and hid himself in the thicket in the
meadow.

There the king soon saw with his own eyes
the goose-girl and the goose boy bringing their flock. The moment
Svana sat down and un-plaited her hair, which shone with the
radiance of a thousand hot oil treatments, that pesky Conrad was on
her like a nose-print on a blacksmith's window. The boy offered her
a deal: for a single strand of her golden hair, he would give her
every awesome pleasure his penis could provide.

Allowing his trousers to fall to the ground,
Conrad revealed his erection once more to the girl. As he traced
around the rim of his glistening cockhead, thumbing pre-cum into
his sensitive skin, he warned that this very well could be her last
chance. Svana knew better and soon repeated the words,

"Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say,

Blow Conrad's tiny cock away,

And make him chase it here and there,

Until I have braided all my hair,

And bound it up today."

When a blast of wind arose to blow Conrad's erection
across the countryside, a cry resounded from the nearby thicket.
"No!" King Dolphus jumped out from the brush to chase that little
penis at break-neck speed. After all, it had been a while for the
king, and even a small penis was better than no penis at all.

"What an odd occurrence." Puzzled, Conrad
watched the king make chase.

"Well? You'd better get after him," Svana
replied, combing her golden locks. "If the king catches your cock,
I hate to think what he might do with it."

So Conrad ran far away, chasing the king who
was chasing his dick, which was blown by the summer wind. All the
while, the maiden quietly went on combing and plaiting her hair.
Well, both the king and Conrad were absent for quite a long time,
and when they returned they looked utterly contented.

Collapsing in the grass at Svana's side, the
peeping cock-chaser of a king asked her why she did all these
curious things.

She replied, "I dare not lament my sorrows
to any human being. I have sworn not to do so by the heavens above
me. And if I had not sworn that oath, I would have lost my
life."

The king urged her and left her no peace,
but he could draw nothing from the goose-girl. "All right then,"
said he. "If you will not tell me anything, tell your sorrows to
the iron-stove there."

By this time, Svana desperately desired to
speak to somebody, anybody, about her troubles. Since she had no
gold to pay the county therapist, the dear girl figured an
inanimate object was her next best option. Creeping inside the
iron-stove, the true bride began to weep and lament. She emptied
her whole heart, crying, "Here am I deserted by the whole world,
and yet I am the daughter of not one, but two queens! A false
waiting-maid has, by force, compelled me to put off my royal
apparel, and she has taken my place with my bridegroom. Now I am
doomed forever to perform menial service as a goose-girl alongside
that wretched poultry-sexual. If this my mother knew, her heart
would break in two."

The king, that clever bugger, was standing
outside by the pipe of the stove, listening to what she said. When
the beautiful girl emerged, royal garments were placed on her.
Svana shone with the radiance of the stars. The king summoned his
son, and revealed he had got the false bride who was only a
waiting-maid. The true one was standing there, as the former
goose-girl.

The young prince rejoiced with all his heart
when he saw her beauty and youth. She didn't look half as
threatening as his current wife, who had read about some kind of
kinky strangulation thing and wanted to try it. He really wasn't
into asphyxiation. Heavens above, Rosamunda's hands were so huge,
he would be dead by midnight. This new girl was manna from heaven,
as far as Prince Everitt was concerned. Svana didn't think he was
half-bad, either. Together, the three royals hatched a plan so
half-baked, that it just might work.

* * *

That evening, a great meal was made ready
for Prince Everitt, Princess Rosamunda, and the minor celebrities
with whom they were acquainted. While the guests feasted on
mole-rat, the specialty of their kingdom, the prince suggested it
might be kind of kinky if he went down on his wife under the dinner
table. Rosamunda's two greatest pleasures were mole-rat and public
sex, so she agreed whole-heartedly.

So down went the prince, under the
tablecloth and beneath her many skirts until an anxious tongue
fought through the false bride's jungle of pubic hair. When that
tongue struck flesh, Rosamunda's folds released a veritable
waterfall of love juices. Heavens above, the prince must have taken
lessons since they'd done this at the breakfast table. Instead of
flitting about like a lost fly, his tongue licked her lower lips
full and hard. He bit at her thighs before he stuck his ample
tongue straight up her hole. Swirling every which way, he flailed
it against the pleading walls of her cunt.

When the aged king had eaten and drunk and
was merry, he turned to the enraptured waiting-maid to pose a
riddle. Of course, with a wild tongue wrestling her spasmodic
pussy, Rosamunda could hardly concentrate on Dolphus' question.
"What punishment deserves a person who steals the identity of a
rightful royal, marries her prince, kills her horse, and leaves her
no option but to tend geese for a living?"

Just as Rosamunda started to process the
riddle, the head between her thighs sucked erect clit like it was
drawing poison from a snakebite. Oh, the waiting-maid nearly lost
her head. Struggling desperately to retain her composure before the
king, Rosamunda fought to transform her moans into words.

With an expert mouth sucking relentlessly at
her clit, words came tumbling out. "She deserves no better fate
than to be stripped entirely naked and put in a barrel which is
studded inside with pointed nails." Unable to keep quiet under the
harangue of one tongue that felt like many, Rosamunda continued,
"Two white horses should be harnessed to this barrel, which ought
to drag her along through one street after another…" The maid,
dizzy with cunnilingual delight, had one wild scream left in her
before she could be still. "…'til she is dead!"

And then the tongue ceased its thrusting,
and the mouth ceased its sucking, and Rosamunda lay back in her
chair in blissful relaxation.

"Ha! It is you," said the aged king. "You
have pronounced your own sentence, and that's exactly what shall be
done unto you."

"What?" Rosamunda stammered. "But, but,
but…"

A great cry rang out from under Rosamunda's
skirt, and who should come climbing out but the rightful
princess.

"No!" Svana cried. "No, I beg you not to
harm my darling Rosamunda!"

"Don't harm her?" asked the king. "But this
was your plan."

"What can I say? I'm complicated," the
goose-girl replied. "And I realize now the full extent of my
infatuation with this hairy maid. She's large and rough, and she
really screwed me over by stealing my identity, but now that all
has been put right, I should like to keep her as my lover, my
liege."

"Your lover?" cried Prince Everitt. "But
you're supposed to marry me!"

"Have you never heard of a sham marriage,
you great twit?" Rosamunda cackled as Svana pet her dark head.

"A what what-age?" puzzled the lanky
prince.

"Well, I certainly have," guffawed old King
Dolphus. "I lived in one for forty-seven miserable years. The only
things that made it bearable were the blacksmith and my
unfathomable wealth. Do you really think I am that scrawny boy's
father? I should think not. No, Everitt, your mother chased after
anything in pantaloons. As for me, well, once you go blacksmith you
never go back-smith."

"How disturbing," said the prince. "And I
suppose it could work, but is it really fair to me to have no lover
of my own?"

Svana observed the prince's golden hair and
shot the king a quick glance. "I should like to introduce you to
the goose boy."

The End

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Goose Girl

Copyright © 2010 Giselle Renarde

Cover art by Dee Dawning

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are
eighteen or older.