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  Goose Girl

  Goose Girl

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  ~ Goose Girl ~

  Based on the Brothers Grimm Tale

  A Twisted Fairy Tale

  Adapted by

  Giselle Renarde

  Copyright © 2010 Giselle Renarde

  Smashwords Edition

  En route to meet her handsome prince, Princess Svana begs her waiting-maid Rosamunda for a quick cuddle. Rosamunda complies, then takes by force the princess' royal apparel. Before Svana can say, "Identity Theft," the waiting-maid marries her prince and the poor princess must take a job minding geese. When the perv-y goose boy vexes her, the aged king hatches a plan to get Rosamunda to reveal her identity.

  The Goose Girl

  Once upon a time, there were two old queens who raised a beautiful daughter. With the undying love of the community and a positive relationship with her birth mother, Princess Svana, the mistress of her castle, grew into a happy and well-adjusted individual. Her ideology embraced the concepts of freedom and justice for all, a philosophy not particularly common in the feudal era, but Svana always was ahead of her time.

  When she was quite young, Princess Svana was betrothed to a fabulous prince whose father was a friend of the queens' from way back in the disco epoch. Even the tabloid reports confirmed prince Everitt was honorable, open-minded and handsome as a fairy's own child. Svana couldn't have been more delighted with the choice, or more excited about her future prospects. Despite her personal principles, the queens had taught her the overarching importance of good looks. A handsome husband meant everything.

  On the occasion of her eighteenth birthday, it was time for Svana to take her leave of the caring queens and marry the good royal. Unfortunately, prince Everitt lived at a great distance. In preparation of her departure, the aged queens packed for their daughter many costly trinkets, jewels, and cups made of gold and silver. In short, they sent with Svana everything which appertained to a royal dowry, for they loved their baby girl with all their hearts.

  As you might expect, Svana was not particularly happy to leave behind her many friends, the beloved queens, her birth mom, her pets, and that green grocer who never forgot to import a few mangos from faraway lands. So, to appease their darling daughter, the queens sent along a maid-in-waiting, Rosamunda. The strong-as-an-ox servant was to ride with the princess and hand her over to the bridegroom, making very certain nobody messed with their baby girl along the way. And messing with Svana was a distinct temptation for all who beheld her, such was her incredible beauty. Apart from that one time with the green grocer, which didn't really count since it was underwater, she'd managed to keep herself relatively un-messed-with.

  When the hour of parting arrived, the aged queens and b-mom stood around their girl, weeping into a communal handkerchief. How sad they were to see Svana go. In that moment, darling b-mom took a small knife from the pocket of her frock and cut her own finger. She held the tear-stained hanky to it, allowing three drops of crimson peasant blood to absorb into the white fabric. Feeling rather out in the cold, the queens pierced their own fingers, but could not coax a single drop of blue blood from their bodies.

  With a knowing smile, b-mom gave the hanky to her only daughter and said, "Dear child, preserve this carefully. It will be of service to you on your way."

  They embraced, the two queens, Svana, and her birth mother, one last time, kissing each other's tear-stained cheeks and wishing one another the best of health and fortune. It would be a long while before they would all be together again, they knew. Svana would miss her progenitor and her adoptive parents every day of her existence, until they met once more in the castle under her rule. Taking sorrowful leave of her mom and the queens, the princess stuck the bloodstained piece of cloth in her tight bosom, mounted her horse, and went away to her bridegroom.

  * * *

  Each woman, both the princess and the maid, Rosamunda, had a horse for the journey, but there was something quite unique about the mare the queens' daughter rode. She was called Falada, and possessed the uncanny ability to speak. Svana had found this quality rather unsettling at the start, but now took comfort in the horse's low rumbling tones and higher, lilting whinnies. As Rosamunda went on ahead, Svana confessed her apprehensions as well as her exhilaration to the mare, and in speaking the words felt much more at peace in her journey.

  After riding Falada, the speaking mare, for some distance, Svana began to feel a delicious sensation between her legs. The rhythmic bouncing pressure against her lower lips generated an undeniably pleasant heat at the apex of her thighs. This was by far her favorite part of riding, this beautiful wet burn. In time, she could no longer bear the suspended bliss of it and, bringing Falada to a halt in the center of a vast field, Svana surprised her waiting-maid with a request:

  "Oh, my dearest Rosamunda, riding this way has my precious cavern flowing with love nectar. I feel I would die without immediate gratification. I beg you, dismount, and take a drink from my cup."

  "You have got to be kidding me," Rosamunda replied, halting her ride as well. "First of all, precious cavern? Love nectar? Who the hell talks like that, Miss Priss? If you're horny, you can bloody well get yourself off. I don't choose to be your servant."

  Svana was not surprised by her maid's harsh words. They had grown accustomed to one another's ways, even in this short time together. So, in her great thirst, the princess laid her head down on Falada’s great rump. After pulling her skirt tails up well over her waist, Svana tapped with one finger at her engorged lower lips. So sensitive were they from the riding that even the slightest pressure sent waves of pleasure throughout her body.

  The wetness between her thighs was hardly a shock, for Svana's pussy was extremely responsive. She was every bit as likely to appreciate a codpiece askew as she was to behold the great tumbling cleavage of a peasant woman. Bodies delighted her eyes, and as she observed the puffy white clouds against the bright blue sky, she reflected upon such bawdy sights as those.

  Rubbing her fingers against the juicy folds of her craving cunt, Svana panted and moaned. Her ample breasts jumped as she fingered herself, her stiff nipples popping out from under her corset. Her nipples were nearly as dark as the red of her bodice, though her flesh was nowhere near as gold as the precious thread woven through. Stroking the waters of her swollen pussy, the princess abandoned herself to the immensity of her personal pleasure. She rubbed faster and faster, her big breasts bouncing, until the pleasure was so vast she had to squeeze her eyes shut just to stay sane. Gritting her teeth, Svana yelped like a pup as every fiber of her being jumped for joy.

  Oh, her thirst was slaked, but how her hand ached. Perhaps she was developing carpel tunnel syndrome. Or repetitive stress disorder.

  When the princess regained her composure, she sat upright on Falada's back only to realize how sopping wet her underskirts had become. It was nothing if not a pleasant reminder of the day's self-induced gratification. As she arranged her freed breasts back into her corset, Svana was overcome with a sudden realization that quickly evolved into panic: what had become of the bloodstained handkerchief her birth mother had given her? She'd pressed it between her breasts before they'd taken leave of the castle, and now it was nowhere to be found.

  "Ah, heaven," the princess cried, hopping from her horse to explore her surroundings.

  Falada nuzzled the distraught girl, then cocked her head to indicate where the hanky had fallen. As Svana breathed a relieved sigh and bent to pick it up, the talking mare stated,

  "If this your mother knew,

  Her heart would break in two."

  "What does that mean?" Svana shoved the square of fabric safely between her breasts. "If what my
mother knew?"

  The speaking mare only whinnied. Svana mounted her horse. Where had her maid-in-waiting gone? The horse remained, but Rosamunda was nowhere to be seen.

  "Rosamunda? Rosamunda!" Svana rode Falada in circles around the clearing, calling for her maid until the servant appeared on the scene with a jewel-encrusted cup of water in hand. "Rosamunda, dear maid, where in the world have you been all this time?"

  Rosamunda shrugged. "You've slaked your thirst, now I am slaking mine." And, having spoken brashly to the princess, she guzzled the wet contents of Svana's chalice.

  "But you drink from my golden cup," Svana whined. "The queens packed that for me, as part of my dowry. It isn't yours to use, and certainly not without permission."

  Again, Rosamunda shrugged. "I would have asked, but you were busy."

  * * *

  Some miles further on, the women found themselves galloping over hill and dale. The warm wind combed Svana's golden hair while Rosamunda's dark locks thrashed behind her back like a furious whip. Again, the princess ached with delight each time her pussy fell hard against Falada's broad back. Every beat was a spanking against her naughty little lips, and she could feel the wetness developing once again between her thighs. Oh, the pleasure was too much to bear.

  Bringing the horse to a halt on a grassy plateau, Svana turned again to rugged Rosamunda. Svana had already forgotten the girl's ill words of earlier that day.

  "Oh, my dearest Rosamunda," the princess repeated. "Riding this way has my precious cavern desperate for . gratification. I beseech you a thousand times over, dismount, and take a drink from my cup."

  Rosamunda's resistance wore away a touch. "If I do dismount and drink from your cup, what will you do for me? After all, I don't choose to be your maid."

  The day was warm, the sun scorching the hilltop, and Svana knew her maid must be thirsty once more. "I will let you drink from my golden cup afterwards. You may fill it with spring water as many times as you wish, if only you will do me this one kind favor."

  "It's not a great offer." Rosamunda considered, "But what the hell? Not much else to do up here."

  After dismounting from their horses, the women tumbled onto the green grass. Giggling, Svana rolled onto her back while Rosamunda pushed up her many skirts.

  "Why, the bush down here is dark as night! How is that, when your hair is light as gold?" Rosamunda asked.

  "I bleach my locks, okay?" Svana wrapped her legs around Rosamunda's shoulders as the maid looked up at her inquisitively. "Hey, don't judge me. You try being a princess with mousy brown hair. It just doesn't work. If you're going to be loved and adored by your subjects, you have to be blonde. Gentlemen prefer it."

  "All right! Don't have a stroke." Rosamunda obviously hadn't anticipated an ambush in the bush. "I will do as you wish."

  And so, no stranger to country ways, the maid-in-waiting nuzzled the Svana's tumescent clit with her wide nose, pressing against it as she licked Svana's hole. Her gaping cunt growled, heavy with hunger as she giggled in delight, tossing and turning in the grass. Every so often, she leaned forward to watch. The waiting-made was not attractive in any conventional sense, but her hard, mannish face had its own allure.

  Rosamunda set her tongue flat and firm against Svana’s cunt, and licked the juicy folds like a hungry beast. What refreshment the maid must find in those tangy waters! The sweet and heavy smell of her sopping pussy made Svana’s senses soar. Was there anything better in all the world than being consumed by a bold and hearty woman who was not bound by decency, rank and propriety?

  When Rosamunda thrust two fingers into Svana’s ready hole, she reveled in the sensation. She was a lucky princess indeed to have a waiting-maid with such stupendously large digits. Svana dug into her corset of red and gold in search of hard nipples to squeeze. Her buds were rosy even as she secured them. When she brought them out into the sunshine and pressed them between her fingers and thumbs, a bolt like lightning assaulted her body. Her pussy rang like a church bell around Rosamunda's fingers, compressing their mass and increasing the beautiful friction within her wet channel.

  The maid flicked relentlessly at her clit, which stood steady and strong as a soldier at arms. Purring like a kitten, Svana pressed her thighs against Rosamunda's ears. That's when the maid, petting the spongy spot inside Svana's hot pussy, began sucking vigorously at her erect pink bud. Svana gasped at the unexpected sensation. She felt almost as though she'd instantaneously grown a cock, and Rosamunda now had it in her hot, wet mouth. Kicking her feet against Rosamunda’s muscular back, Svana cried out a string of encouragements. It was not simply the magnificent sensation, but the view of her rough maid consuming her, that urged Svana’s belly to quake with a familiar sensation. Her thighs trembled and she inched her heels upward until they rested upon Rosamunda’s shoulders. Svana bore down against Rosamunda’s mouth, bucking and gyrating, soaking the maid’s lips with her juice. In turn, Rosamunda bit down gently upon Svana's slippery clit, alternately sucking and licking, still thrusting fat fingers in and out of Svana’s cunt until she exploded. Pulling at the fiery woman's black locks, Svana shrieked like a banshee, soaking her maid's square chin with the waters of her arousal.

  Rosamunda pulled away, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her simple green gown. Her ecstatic pleasure gave way to calmer bliss. In the grass, eyes closed and absorbing the fresh sunlight, Svana lounged like her bones had fallen out.

  Something else had fallen out, too—the precious hanky stained with b-mom's blood. Scooping it up as the princess slumbered, the servant woman grabbed the golden cup and set off on foot to fetch some water from the nearby spring.

  While she was there, the waiting-maid launched the bloodied cloth into the waters and watched as it swirled and whirled and disappeared downstream.

  * * *

  Svana awoke, her flesh hot and bothered by the sun's mighty rays. Rosamunda stood against her mare holding a jewel-encrusted cup.

  "Ah," Svana yawned. "You may go to fetch your drink now, Rosamunda."

  The waiting-maid laughed haughtily. "I have been and returned from my drink, and now I shall leave on your mare and marry your prince."

  "You'll do what, now?" Svana rubbed her eyes. Was this a joke? But Rosamunda was not one for foolishness…

  "Check your bosom for that filthy hanky."

  The bottom dropped out of Svana's stomach, even before she attempted to retrieve the hanky. It wasn't there, of course. Her breasts, slightly bronzed from exposure to the intense sunlight, hung free from her gown. She looked all about, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Neither was her hanky in the grass nearby, nor was it anywhere to be found. What had become of that precious blood?

  "I've disposed of it and now it's gone and you are weak and powerless."

  "I am?" Beyond her astonishment at Rosamunda's words, Svana felt numb.

  "You are," the waiting-maid responded. "And so I shall be princess and you shall be servant."

  "Ah, heaven," Svana sighed. She felt no reason to question Rosamunda's divine knowledge. After all, the maid was older than she, and much stronger. If Rosamunda said she was powerless without that spot of blood from her mother's finger, she was hardly about to question the woman.

  Now Rosamunda would be the royal, and she would be the maid. The princess had to be content with this arrangement, for how could she quarrel? Had she not sworn by the clear sky above not to reveal one word of this to anyone at the royal court, Rosamunda would have killed her on the spot. And, coming from Rosamunda, that was no idle threat.

  The waiting-maid, with many hard words, bade the princess exchange royal apparel for her own shabby clothes. Rosamunda undressed first, revealing a large body, firm with muscle. Svana had never before beheld her servant in the nude, and her pussy responded accordingly by dripping new wetness down her hot thighs. Rosamunda's cunt was cloaked by a thick black bush. A dark trail lead the way up a hard belly to solid breasts culminating in purplish nipples, both of which were surrounded by sharp
hairs. Her legs and arms were covered in a thick matting of hair, but she stood before Svana unapologetic and proud. However grotesque, there was something about Rosamunda's naked body that rendered Svana even less resistive. When the naked maid moved behind her, the princess waited for what was to come.

  After untying Svana's corset, the monster of a woman let the girl's gown fall to the grass. Rosamunda's hot breath harassed the back of Svana's neck as she took firm hold of Svana's full breasts. The true princess' knees nearly gave out at the sensation of hard hands on soft tits. Spinning on her heels, the princess surprised herself by pressing her perfect chest against the waiting-maid's firm front and kissing her spring-water mouth. The kiss was hot and hard. Forceful hands ran the length of her body, exerting such violent pressure upon her flesh that the girl was certain she'd see bruises in the morning.

  Straddling the servant's thigh, which was every bit as hairy as the darling green grocer's had been, Svana rubbed her ever-ready pussy lips against her muscular leg. Rosamunda grabbed her ass with both hands, rocking her easily, like a swing. With every pass along that firm flesh, Svana's pussy burned with delicious wet friction. When Svana grasped the maid's shoulder, her feet lifted right off the ground. Back and forth, back and forth her moist pussy lips rubbed against Rosamunda's thigh, like silk on wool. Hot pressure on the princess' mound increased until the friction put Svana over the edge. When her orgasm came in wave after wave, she couldn't see straight. She simply held tight to Rosamunda and shrieked her release.

  Rosamunda dropped the girl in a writhing heap upon the green peasant dress strewn over a burnt patch of grass. As she squeezed herself into the princess' red and gold gown, she commanded Svana to get up and dressed.