“Oh, quiet. You’ll get your turn, once you’re to my liking,” Mistress said, pulling a rope to raise the curtain from the floor and cover Hansel in his cage. She laughed at his muffled, neutered protests and went to join Gretel, standing by the bed, wringing her hands.
“Don’t act as though this is the worst thing to happen to you, dear.” She pushed Gretel down onto the bed. “Relax. You may find it’s not so bad.”
Gretel closed her eyes as Mistress lowered the top of her bodice. Mistress sighed as she massaged Gretel’s pert breasts and ran her tongue through the cleavage. The tongue traversed from one side to the other until Gretel’s chest glistened with her saliva.
“Open your eyes, girl.” Gretel squeezed them more tightly shut, until a slap on her cheek shuttered them open to Mistress’s cruel smile.
“That’s better. Now, look at this. Your nipples are very pink.” She pinched Gretel’s peak between long fingers. “Mine are more plum, see?” She stuck her breast in Gretel’s face. “Why don’t you taste it? Do you think it tastes like a plum?”
Gretel squeezed her lips shut, causing Mistress to laugh. “Really, dear. You don’t want me to dine on your brother simply because you wouldn’t take a tit.”
Hansel, the poor girl said to herself as she opened her mouth and Mistress popped her breast into it. For Hansel, she repeated as she began sucking Mistress’s areola, which definitely didn’t taste like a plum.
“Mmm,” Mistress cooed. “Use your tongue, my sweet. Move from one to the other. You’ll see, it’s not so bad.”
Gretel complied as Mistress plunged her taloned fingers into her most delicate tissue. Gretel whimpered as the nails pierced her inner walls. Mistress brought out her fingers and put them in her mouth.
“Ahh, you licked a window, didn’t you? I can taste that special sugar in your juices.” Mistress twirled a finger inside Gretel again then presented it to her. “Taste your sweetness,” she told her, poking the digit into Gretel’s mouth, followed by her tongue as she brought their lips together in deep, longing kisses. Her hands explored Gretel’s body, imagining the two of them wrapped together in ecstasy, until she tasted the salt of tears on Gretel’s face. “Crying?” she asked. “How insulting. You’ll fuck your brother, but touching me brings you to tears?”
Gretel lay quietly in the pulled-down and pushed-up dirndl, not responding to Mistress’s accusation.
“Your choice,” the woman said, pushing her out of the bed. “Go lie next to him on the floor. You’ll scrub it and the walls tomorrow.”
How did this happen to us? Gretel silently lamented as she picked herself up off the floor then curled up next to the curtain. Tears flowed freely as she wondered, Is this what Maria would have wanted for us? What would Papa say?
“Gretel?” she heard from the other side of the curtain.
“Jā, Hansel.”
Fingers poked out from the bottom of the drape. “I’m sorry.”
She grasped the fingers. “I know.” In this way, they slept.
***
She awoke the next morning to a sharp whack on her bare bottom.
“Get up, lazy girl. You have work to do.”
Gretel scooted away from the still-angry woman, beautiful in her ire, with ignited black eyes, high color and heaving breasts. She threw a cupcake at Gretel.
“Don’t hurt her,” shouted Hansel from behind the curtain.
Mistress laughed as she dropped the barrier to a bristling blond in too-tight lederhosen, with a bulging front flap. She licked her lips. He was a very pretty young man, but she wanted to tease him a while longer, maintain dominance over him. She grinned as she crooked a finger at him. “Sejieni.”
Hansel frowned, suspicious. What did she want from him?
She snapped at Gretel, sitting on the floor in the tailor position, with her ankles crossed and knees akimbo, picking tiny crumbs from between her legs, and eating them. “Scrub that floor or I’ll use your hair to do it myself.”
“Leave her alone,” Hansel growled.
“Then come to me,” Mistress answered.
He stalked the few steps to stand in front of her, glaring through the cage bars.
She smiled in the face of his indignation as the sounds of sloshing and a brush against wood grain began. “Drop the flap.”
“What?”
“I said, drop the front flap of your shorts, dear, and poke your pecker through the bars.”
“Why?”
“I want to see if you’re ready yet,” she explained. In the background, Gretel scrubbed the floor, though not as diligently as she usually performed chores. The soap and water made such pretty colors. She tried to follow their swirls with her eyes.
Hansel looked over Mistress’s shoulder at his sweet sister doing the bidding of that hag.
“I’m fucking one of you,” she stated. “Do you want it to be you, or her?”
He tightened his grip on the bars at the idea, but if he could get out of the cage, they could escape. “I don’t want her in here,” he said.
Mistress laughed. “If I choose you, we’ll leave her where she is to play with her bubbles.”
Hansel kept his eyes on her as he undid the two buttons at his waist to drop the gaping flap of his shorts and release his morning erection.
She laughed again as she wrapped her fingers around him. “You men are all the same.” She handed him a square of gingerbread. “Eat your breakfast.”
Her hand glided up and down on him. Hansel tried to pretend indifference as he bit into the cake but he unconsciously pushed into her obviously practiced hand. Girls in the village had handled him but nothing like this. She varied her grip and speed, smiling at him while he ate the gingerbread and thrust his hips forward, over and over.
Gretel watched, fascinated, pushing and pulling the brush to her, as if mimicking Mistress. It was something Gretel thought she should know how to do for when she could go home.
Hansel bucked, nearly choking on his breakfast through his open-mouth groans, while his cock drained into Mistress’s hand.
She raised it to her mouth, snaking out her tongue to lick it, her eyes boring into his. She smacked her lips and shook her head. “No. Not what I’m looking for.” She rubbed her hand on the side of his shorts. “You’re not ready.”
A giggle from Gretel drew their attention. She sat with her legs splayed wide on the floor, her bodice soaked. Foam dotted her nose, chin and cheeks and she precisely tipped her nipples, as well, smiling at Mistress and Hansel for approval. She tittered again as she plunged her hands into the soapy water, lowering the front of her dress and pushing her bare breasts together to blow at the suds in her cleavage.
“Gretel,” Hansel snapped. She waggled her fingers at him and bent over for more water to massage into her exposed labia, singing, “Clean tits, clean little pit. Gretel’s soooo clean. See?”
She pushed open her thighs with her hands and Hansel's eyes were as wide as the space between her legs as she showed off her wet, pink and, yes, very clean little pit.
Mistress laughed. “You might not be ready, but she certainly is.” Hansel gnashed his teeth as she bent down to where Gretel was using the foamy end of one of her braids to paint a pattern on her fully displayed chest. “That’s enough work for now, pretty one. Yes, I see your bubbles. I have something pretty to show you. Come over here with me. I have another cupcake for you.” She led her to the lounging corner.
“No, Gretel!” Hansel shouted.
Mistress stomped back to him. “You must learn to be quiet. I’m not going to hurt your precious little sister. She may even like it.” She pulled the rope that lifted the curtain to cover the cage and laughed at his helpless yelps.
Closed off anew, Hansel finished his gingerbread and lay down, the images of soapy, silly Gretel crowding his spinning head. He remembered how she’d felt in his arms and wondered when he’d hold her again.
***
In the following days, Mistress gave Gretel fewer drugs and
Hansel more. She still wanted him desperately, but loved his growing frustration and helplessness. And, in the meantime, she had sweet, luscious Gretel.
Part of the reason she drugged her less is she wanted Gretel to enjoy their time together and Mistress was sure she was beginning to.
“See, not so bad, being with me,” she said the first time Gretel had an orgasm—panting, tingling and unable to stop touching her body, until she touched Mistress.
Mistress smiled at the memory of Gretel's part by part comparison of their forms, as she gave the handsome young Hansel a final tug. She kept him guessing by sometimes jerking him in the morning and sometimes in the evening, like now. She completed the routine of tasting and rejecting him.
His sculpted face hardened and he didn’t even bother to button his flap. He turned away from her, biting viciously into his frosted cupcake with chocolate roof discs crumbled on top, treating her to the sight of his high, toned buttocks in those ridiculous boy’s shorts. Delicious.
She sat at the table with a sigh of well-being, looking around at her gleaming little cottage with newly scrubbed floors and walls. Even the cage shone. She smiled at her generosity, thinking of the day before, when she’d allowed the brother and sister to fumble and finger each other through the bars, while Gretel wiped them down.
Mistress pulled out a large basket of hair from under the table. She chose a bundle of platinum, that had belonged to the little one with dimpled cheeks and knees named Louisa. She lovingly detangled it with her fingers and, when it was long and smooth, tied it with a blue ribbon. It would braid nicely with that bit left over from the auburn-haired twins. She patted her growling, flat belly. Cygna should be bringing her another pair soon. After all, a two-hundred-year-old witch needed protein to maintain her figure.
And keep the handsome young men staring, she added, noticing Hansel’s intoxicated, lusting and futile gaze, fixing first on her, then Gretel, while he palmed his now-flaccid phallus. She followed his eyes to the fireplace where industrious Gretel dusted the bricks, a very fetching sight as she lifted on tiptoe, exposing the female version of the family’s gluteal excellence.
Mistress made a purring noise and set aside her basket. She slinked to the floor, crawling soundlessly to the hearth. She took a bite of one of Gretel’s golden apples and kissed the other. Gretel looked over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. Wordlessly, Mistress moved to the left side of the room.
Grinning Gretel tucked away her dust cloth and followed, without a glance at her caged brother. In his polluted mind, she was backing up to him, not walking away, as she pulled the tiny dress over her head and hopped naked into bed with Mistress.
He worked himself more forcefully as the women rolled around on the mattress, noting how differently Gretel acted from a few days ago, when she’d been stiff and weepy.
Speaking of stiff and weepy, he said to himself, looking down at his engorged but unappreciated manhood. He reached solitary climax as Gretel lay on her stomach, legs spread wide, then bounced to her knees to push back on the dildo Mistress pumped in and out of her. He didn’t understand why it was funny when Gretel giggled and said, “They do taste like plums”. His head bobbed sleepily on drooping shoulders when she arched her back, Mistress’s head between her legs. Gretel shouted, “Jā! Jā!” Her tone lowered. “Mmm. Now, it’s your turn.”
His last sight was his sister’s ass, as she tongued inside Mistress. Miserable Hansel passed out.
***
Gretel smiled when she awoke the next morning, having had a wonderful, romantic dream, not about Mistress or Hansel, but of being home and being loved by the one she wanted. The sugar-glazed windows she’d cleaned allowed the sun to enter in a spray of speckles around the house and on the bed where she lay, rather than a straight beam. She liked the speckles better.
Insistent rattling of metal drew her attention to the other side of the room, to Hansel gyrating against his bars, while Mistress knelt on the floor, fellating him. With a grin, Gretel stroked her own body, though not seeking an earth-shattering experience such as the previous night’s. She just liked the feeling and was happy she’d learned so much about pleasure in the time they’d been Mistress’s guests.
Hansel groaned and leaned his head on his cage. Gretel was happy he was enjoying himself too.
“Gretel,” Mistress called to her, licking her lips, “I think he’s ready. Come see for yourself.”
She got out of bed and walked across the room without a stitch on, to Mistress and her brother, who stared at her the way he always had at home.
“Taste him,” Mistress said, rising from the floor to make room for Gretel.
She obediently fell to her knees and, looking up at Hansel, took his receding genitals into her mouth, swirling her tongue all around and bringing out a lovely moan from him.
“Is that not the most flavorful man-cream you’ve ever tasted?” Mistress asked, dropping behind Gretel and reaching around to caress her out-of-bed-soft flesh. “Let’s let him out, and the three of us can have great fun.”
Hansel had such an expression of relief, excitement and accomplishment as he looked at her, but Gretel wasn’t sure how she felt. She didn’t like the idea of sharing Mistress with Hansel, or sharing Hansel with Mistress, for that matter. Or, maybe she no longer wanted either of them.
Childish squeals from outside interrupted the deepest thoughts she’d had in days. Mistress stood, her black eyes ignited with anticipation. “Get dressed, Gretel, and close your flap, Hansel.” She hurried out the door. “Nibble, nibble like a mouse…”
Donning her dirndl, Gretel wondered why Mistress was so excited. She returned with a boy and girl, duplicates of Hansel and Gretel ten years ago, munching goodies, with pupils so dilated, it was impossible to tell what color their irises were.
As the fire suddenly blazed and the water in the pot suddenly boiled, Gretel began to understand.
“I’ve done it many times,” Mistress had said the first night. “Surely, you don’t want me to dine on your brother…”
How could I have forgotten those things, Gretel berated herself, as wooden toys a doll and bouncing ball appeared around Hansel.
“This big boy can move out of your way and you two can play and rest from your journey,” a flustered Mistress cooed to the children as she returned to the door to remove the iron ring with a rusted key that hung on a peg over the door frame.
How did I not see that before? A self-chastened Gretel wondered. No, she’s not doing it, not while I’m here. She gave the children a small, reassuring smile and put an arm around Mistress with the key, walking to the cage with her and whispering embarrassing, obscene suggestions in her ear.
“Not now, Gretel. There are children present,” Mistress said, hands shaking so badly, she had trouble unlocking the door. Gretel watched, calculating thrust and timing, as Mistress crowed, “Finally!”
Gretel shoved Mistress through the open door, resulting in a collision with Hansel. She banged the cage shut, turning the lock while the two picked themselves up from the floor.
“Gretel, what are you doing?” Hansel asked, as she got Mistress’s cloak from its spot by the bed.
“I’m taking these children away so she can’t eat them,” Gretel said in a rush. She picked up a book-sized, filigreed box that had been under the cloak. It contained coins in gold and silver and some jewels. She smiled. No one would turn her away now.
“That’s mine!” shrieked Mistress, strangling the bars as she would’ve like to strangle Gretel’s long neck.
“Think of it as payment for everything you’ve had me do,” Gretel sneered, ushering the children to the door.
“You can’t leave me here,” roared her brother. He stomped to the corner of the cage closest to the door, eyes wide with disbelief and rage.
She turned back. “I’m sorry, Hansel. I want to go home and I can’t with you, not after what we’ve done.” She tilted her head to Mistress. “Get to know each other. Maybe you’ll find it’s no
t so bad.”
“GRETEL!!”
She slammed the door and threw the key into the trees, then hurried the children down the path, to where Cygna rested with her head under a wing.
“Take us home,” Gretel ordered the bird, placing the little ones on its back. Cygna complied. She was governed by what Mistress told her to do and not do and she’d never forbidden her slave to follow Gretel’s instruction.
Gretel closed her eyes and breathed in clean air. She jumped into the water and floated next to Cygna and the children, trying to bathe away the dirtiness of the time in the gingerbread house and before they'd gotten there.
In tearful voices, the children told her how their parents had argued about their eating too much. They’d plotted to leave them in the woods but the girl, Tania, had dropped a trail of small white stones and bread crumbs so they could find their way home.
“But it rained and rained,” explained young Willie. “The birds ate the crumbs and we couldn’t see the stones and we were more and more lost and so hungry. Then the swan said she knew a place we’d be safe and fed.”
Gretel nodded grimly, recalling similar assurances. She glared at Cygna as she climbed back onto her back to dry before they reached their destination. Without stops for copulation, the brook reflected the bright noon sky when they reached the village. She ordered Cygna away and took Willie and Tania to the church, giving the church officer some of the coins from her box for their care.
They hugged her, making her promise she’d visit them. Then, Gretel headed for home.
***
A beautiful day for the long walk from the village, with the sky as blue as her eyes and small birds chirping in the green trees. Her heart lifted as she came across landmarks as familiar and dear to her as her own bed. She passed the sunny glen where she and Hansel had played and where he’d given her a brotherly kiss on the cheek three years ago. She gave her head a sad shake then ran to the cherry tree where her father had gouged the trunk to carve a heart that he could pop out and put on a long leather cord for her mother. She touched the heart-shaped hole with loving fingers, smiling at tender memories of both of them.
Hot Grimm Page 3