by Julie Law
Rumpelstiltskin
Futanari Erotica Fairy Tales, Volume 12
by
Julie Law
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
RUMPELSTILTSKIN
Web Edition
Copyright ©2015 Julie Law
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Isabelle was a beautiful young woman. Everyone told her so, and she could see what they meant every time she looked at her reflection in the water of the nearby lake. Her face was striking, with sharp angles, and no blemishes. Her lips were a dark pink, almost blood-red, and her eyes two sapphires that contrasted with her pale skin. Her best feature was her hair: it was long and curly, and its color was that of gold.
She loved to run her fingers through it and imagine it was as valuable as the metal it resembled. She wouldn’t have to live in misery if it was. With her beauty, if she had been born a noblewoman she could aspire to marry a king, or at least a prince. Unfortunately, her father was a miller, or had been. She never met him, and could only trust her grandmother’s word on the issue.
Isabelle’s body was almost as desirable as her face. The work her grandmother forced on her kept her in shape, and her curves grew full and well-rounded. Whenever Isabelle went to the village she could feel the eyes of the men on her body, and their leers. They desired her and it made her afraid, though it also made her feel powerful.
With a wink or a smile, she could make most young men do whatever she desired, and the promise of something more made the rest fall to their knees in front of her. Despite this, Isabelle didn’t consider her beauty a blessing. If she was ugly she wouldn’t have suffered so much at her grandmother’s hands.
She couldn’t understand why her grandmother despised her so. The closest she came to understanding was when her grandmother talked about her mother’s mistakes, and of how she had been foolish enough to fall in love with a miller. It was hard for Isabelle to believe that had been enough to turn her grandmother into such a hateful crone, though. Surely she had always been a bitter woman, unloved and uncared, and that was why she couldn’t love Isabelle.
One thing the young woman was sure of was her grandmother’s greed. Ever since she grew into adulthood, the old crone had been trying to find her a match. Incidentally, and ironically enough, Isabelle’s grandmother’s greed was what both put the blonde at risk and protected her. The older woman wouldn’t settle for just anyone.
Most of the unmarried men in the local villages had asked for Isabelle’s hand, but her grandmother didn’t accept any of their proposals. She hoped to find a rich merchant, at the very least, to take Isabelle out of her hands.
The young woman wanted to say she couldn’t understand her grandmother’s greed, but that would be a lie. Isabelle herself was greedy, and desired better in life that being forced to work on a field to sustain herself. She could remember the darker days of her life when she was younger, and food was scarcer. She remembered the hunger that gnawed at her stomach during those days, and never wanted to suffer like that again.
Nowadays, if the small bit of land she and her grandmother possessed wasn’t capable of giving her all the food needed, Isabelle only had to smile at a local hunter, maybe promise him a kiss, and food would find its way into her plate. Even then, there were times when she couldn’t eat as much as desired, but she didn’t starve.
Isabelle was nineteen when her grandmother died and she found herself free for the first time.
At first, she didn’t quite know what to feel. Should she be happy to be rid of the old crone? The other woman had been venomous and unloving, but she did care for Isabelle, raised her and fed her. There had never been any kindness between them though, and Isabelle’s grandmother had been trying to sell her off to the highest bidder for a long time.
In that daze of emotions, Isabelle’s first days after her grandmother’s death passed quickly, and afterwards the young woman’s newfound freedom kept her happy and content.
Eventually, though, her life took a turn for the worse. Without her grandmother’s presence, the local men turned a little more daring in their proposals. They figured she was a young naïve woman, and that they could fool her however they wanted. When she briskly refused them, they left angry and wouldn’t talk to her again.
Jealous tongues and scorned men took care of the rest. Soon, Isabelle realized most of the locals had turned their backs on her, including a great deal of her former helpers. When winter came, she found herself hungry and unable to sate it. The hunters that deigned to speak to her now wanted more than just a smile or a kiss. They wanted her body, they wanted her to do what married women did with their husbands.
Isabelle refused, always, but hunger made her weaker and weaker. She feared she would have to give into their demands.
Isabelle’s grandmother had liked her wine. When the drink got to her head, she would turn to Isabelle and sneer. “I should sell you to one of the whorehouses in the city,” The crone would ground out through gritted teeth. “Make you use that beauty to fill my purse. It’s what your father and mother deserved, to see their child a whore while they rot in hell.”
The first time she heard them, Isabelle hadn’t understood her grandmother’s words, but as she grew older she realized what the other woman meant, and it cemented her dislike of the crone. Now, Isabelle realized that without her grandmother’s presence she might have been forced into such a life much earlier.
Despair took hold of the young woman and fear started dominating her thoughts. What would her life be like if she sold her body to feed herself? Would she become the local whore, insulted by every woman and child who crossed her path whenever she went to town? Would she find herself pregnant one day, and raising a child without a father?
Isabelle shook her head. She couldn’t let that happen. If it did, she would eventually turn into her grandmother: a being lacking in love and hoping for a better future through her progeny. She would become a crone.
When Isabelle was at her lowest, she heard a rumor that gave her hope. It was during one of her treks to the village, where she hoped to sell some of her grandmother’s old knickknacks and buy some vegetables and fruit, that she heard the king was seeking a wife.
“It’s true,” The merchant that first talked about it told her later, when she met him in the local tavern. Isabelle rarely visited the place, not having the money to spare, but the young man invited her. She knew he was interested in her for her beauty, and hoped for something more than her company, but she wouldn’t give it to him. “The king is hoping to find a wife. The daughters of the highest lords already visited him, but he didn’t find anyone he liked. Some say he’s interested in a foreign princess.”
Isabelle sighed, imagining herself as queen for a few moments. It was a foolish dream, but dreaming didn’t hurt. She only shook herself out of her daydreaming when the merchant reached out and took hold of her hand.
“If he saw someone like you,” The young man spoke tenderly, his eyes shining with something that Isabelle couldn’t describe. “He would fall in love the same moment and marry you.”
Isabelle giggled in reply, but his words touched her deep down. Not as the man expected though. “Do you really think so?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Then maybe you’ll help me meet the king.”
The young man laughed, and his laugh made Isabelle’s stomach flutter before she shook her head and
centered herself. “And how would I do that?”
“Speak of my beauty wherever you go,” Isabelle leaned forward and let him have a look at her cleavage. She had learnt how easy it was to manipulate men when they couldn’t take their eyes off of her breasts. “Make a song, talk about me to whoever will hear you. If word of my beauty reaches the court surely someone will bring me to the king.”
It was the deepest arrogance, but Isabelle really believed she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and no one had ever said anything to convince her otherwise. With the way man fell to their knees for her, most would even agree. And even if the king wouldn’t seek her out, some noble might be interested in her beauty and marry her.
The young merchant laughed again. “And what would you give me in exchange for my efforts?” His smile could almost blind the room.
“A kiss.” Isabelle promised.
He looked at her for a long time, considering, and then nodded with a sigh. “So be it, for a taste of your lips, I’ll spread the tales of your beauty to the four corners of the world. I’ll talk of your blue eyes and of the gold you have for hair.”
Isabelle smiled at him and reached over the table, poising her lips against his in a caress that lasted only moments. When she leaned back, he had his eyes closed and was breathing hard. She felt a renewed fluttering in her chest.
She could have been happy with such a man, if she forgot about dreams of kings and princes. The merchant was handsome, and kind, and would have been able to make her happy. Isabelle, though, was her grandmother’s get and greed took hold of her.
With a smile, she said her goodbyes and turned on her feet, leaving the tavern behind.
Isabelle went on with her life, and days later she had almost forgotten about her scheme. She still hoped something would come out of it, but the more rational part of her mind made her focus on more immediate matters, and the blonde started preparing for the remaining winter.
She needed to gather wood, and couldn’t rely on the lumberjacks that provided it in earlier years. In the woods, she could find fruits and even roots that could be eaten, and though she hated to think about it Isabelle could try her hand at hunting. With a few traps she might even catch some rabbits.
One day, when Isabelle was returning from a trip to the village, there were a couple of men waiting at her door. She stopped, and thought about turning away, but they saw her and moved her way. As they approached, she saw their clothes and their bearing, and realized they weren’t commoners. They were too well dressed, and moved with confidence.
As the nobles approached, Isabelle remembered her scheme. She smiled when they stopped a few feet away from her. Their eyes were moving up and down her body, and Isabelle had learned how to read the heat in the eyes of men a long time ago. They were lusting after her, and Isabelle breathed a little easier. It seemed nobles weren’t immune to her charms.
“Are you the miller’s daughter?” The oldest of them asked. Despite his age, he wasn’t unhandsome. There was a refined cast to his features, a kind of nobility, though his hair had grayed out.
Isabelle stuttered a little before replying. “… Yes, I am.” That was how she was known in the local villages, even though her father died before she was born.
The man bowed at her. “I’ve been sent here by King Stefan, and hope to bring you before him. Is there anything you wish to pick up before we can follow?” He finished by studying her attire. A blush took hold of her face – she wasn’t exactly prepared to visit a king.
Isabelle’s mouth opened and closed without a sound leaving. It was all too sudden, and she didn’t quite know what to do. Eventually she concentrated. “I’ll need to dress myself.”
“If that’s all, don’t bother.” He gave her a small smile. “We’ll be able to provide you with an attire fit for meeting the king.”
Isabelle bit her lip. Now that she was close to getting what she wanted, she hesitated. Nobles were always finicky and the king would be the worst of them. If he didn’t like what he saw in her, he might kill her or harm her. Her beauty wouldn’t be a shield against him. Even if he liked her, he might not make her his wife. He could take her as his mistress, and for Isabelle that would be the same thing as whoring herself. Not as bad obviously, and not exactly a fate she would abhor, but she wanted more. She deserved more.
One look at the waiting men let Isabelle realize she didn’t have much of a choice. They were ordered to bring her before the king, and they would do their task with no regard for her wants.
“Let me store the supplies and I’ll follow you.”
They helped her carry her things, and when everything was in its rightful place, one of them left to gather their horses while the other kept an eye on Isabelle.
When the man returned with the horses, Isabelle climbed into the saddle behind the older noble. It wasn’t the first time she rode, but it wasn’t something she did frequently. She didn’t have the money to maintain such an animal, or the need for it.
Isabelle put her arms around the older man’s figure. He smiled at her over his shoulder and the blonde found herself blushing without meaning to. He was handsome enough and, if she wasn’t going to meet a king, she might have kept thinking about him and their closeness to one another.
She was going to meet a king, though. That was something that never really left her mind while the horse trotted off and carried her away towards her destination. Fear and hope warred within Isabelle, and she barely paid attention to her surroundings as they approached the capital. It took hours to arrive, but for Isabelle it felt like centuries.
The nobles led her directly towards the palace. “I’ll leave you in the company of Miss Monet.” The older gentleman told Isabelle after helping her down. He pointed out the woman who came out when the palace guards announced their arrival. “She’ll take good care of you, and prepare you to meet his majesty.”
Isabell just nodded, a little too overwhelmed to make sense of everything. His hand on her shoulder called for her attention.
He smiled. “Don’t be worried, everything will be alright. You’ll see.” He tried to inject some cheer into his words, but didn’t succeed completely. She saw some kind of warning in his gaze that she couldn’t decipher. “You’ll be presented to the king after dinner, so ready yourself, ok?”
“I’ll do my best.” Isabelle promised. When he made to leave she stopped him. She reached forward and gave him a peck on the cheek, and then smiled when he reddened. “Thank you for your protection in this voyage, brave knights.” She finished with a nod in his and his companion’s direction.
The two men left with smiles in their faces, and Isabelle turned to meet the stern gaze of Miss Monet. She ducked her head, and the other female sighed before ordering Isabelle to follow.
The matron led Isabelle throughout the building, towards one of the rooms in one of the wings of the palace. It was almost as big as Isabelle’s entire house. She could only marvel as she turned her head one way and then another, gazing at everything within. The furniture was made of solid wood, there were decorations in shades of gold and silver all over the place, and the bed was the softest thing Isabelle had ever touched.
“You can rest here for some time.” Miss Monet’s voice shook the blonde out of her stupefaction. “When it’s time we’ll come for you. You’ll need to bathe, and we’ll find you something to wear.”
Isabelle ducked her head once again and smiled at the other woman, gently. “Thank you.”
A sketch of a smile appeared in Monet’s lips, but she didn’t say anything before leaving the blonde alone. Isabelle laid on the bed and slept the best sleep of her life, only waking up when someone shook her awake.
The palace maids made sure to prepare her for the king. They bathed her, gave her perfume and took her to a room full of dresses. They spent hours making her try one after another. Isabelle imagined that some would find it boring to spend so much time getting ready, but she didn’t particularly care. She was being pampered like
a princess – like she had always felt she deserved – and she would enjoy it for as long as she could.
When it ended, and Isabelle wore a deep red dress that called attention to her cleavage, Miss Monet came to get her. The older woman looked the blonde up and down, and then slowly nodded. “This is good enough.”
Isabelle smiled and the other woman let her lips turn upwards briefly. Then the head maid abruptly turned her back on the blonde. The younger woman was taken aback, but then shrugged thinking that was simply Miss Monet’s way.
Breathing deeply, the blonde tried to relax as she followed the other female. It didn’t take them long to arrive at their destination, or at least, it didn’t seem to be long. In truth, Isabelle was too distracted by all the shiny and obviously expensive items she saw during the walk. As expected, a king’s palace was full of riches and Isabelle lost herself in them.
There were beautiful paintings on the walls; statues and well-crafted suits of armor decorated the corridors, and every person that passed by them was well dressed and obviously well fed – even the servants. Isabelle started imagining what life would be if she had been born in such a place, and she only left those thoughts behind when Monet touched her shoulder and pointed at the door in front of them.
“They are waiting for you, girl.” It seemed she wanted to say something else, but held back.
Isabelle studied her for a few moments before nodding, and then advanced without fear. Before she reached the door someone opened it from the other side, and Isabelle had her first glimpse of the court of King Stefan.
The hall that spread in front of her was the biggest room she had seen in her life, and it was almost full to the brink. Hundreds of people must have been there, and the noise they produced was so loud that Isabelle had to wonder why she hadn’t been able to hear it through the wooden door. Some of the nobles closer to her position looked at her when it opened, but then ignored her.