Daddy's Rapunzel Read online




  Daddy’s Rapunzel

  Hayden Ash

  Contents

  PART ONE

  George I

  George II

  George III

  George IV

  PART TWO

  Rapunzel I

  Rapunzel II

  Rapunzel III

  More Delicious Stories By Hayden Ash…

  Prefer Collections? Delicious Bundles By Hayden Ash

  Prefer Story Based Series? Delicious Four Parters By Hayden Ash

  About the Author

  The following is a work of fiction intended for adult readers only. All characters therein are 18 years old or older and not related by blood. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Hayden Ash

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  PART ONE

  George I

  I see her standing there in the garden, the garden that’s forbidden to common men like me.

  Such beautiful flowers everywhere, but none are so beautiful as her. And, the vegetables are ripe, but not nearly as ripe as her breasts and, I expect, the tight, smooth cunt that lies underneath her dress.

  She walks through the garden, surrounded by high stone walls, every day at the same time.

  “Stop drooling, you pathetic idiot,” my wife snaps at me.

  My wife hates me, and I hate her. We both wished one another would die. Thank God we have no children.

  I hate this little house and this little farm of ours. I feel as though I should be doing better in life than I am. The mediocrity of my condition always sends me into a panicked rage, until I see her standing there with that perfect smile on her face, with her hair waving like a long, golden sheet against the current of the wind.

  Today, I take note of each slender curve of her body and feel a heat surge through my rock hard cock. My penis is so erect that it’s nearly cutting through my trousers.

  “A young woman like that could have a prince or even a king! What chance do you think an old fool like you has with her?” My wife asks me, her tone as cutting as the thorns that wrap around our house.

  “Nothing,” I say, groaning.

  My wife nods satisfied that she’s reminded me of my low place in the world. Then, she leaves to the bedroom.

  I look out through the window at the beautiful young woman with golden hair and slender thighs one last time.

  “I shall die unless I can have her…” I growl to myself.

  George II

  Twilight arrives and, as if by magic, I’m awoken out of a pleasant dream about the young woman. That’s it. I cannot take it anymore. Come what may, I am taking my chance with her, however small.

  I throw on something warm and head outside of my cottage. As I look across the field at the garden and the tower behind it, the earth between us seems so open much more inviting to me than it has before. This forbidden fantasy suddenly no longer feels out of reach.

  I start running as fast as I can, noticing the sparkle of the lake to my right and the fog from the mountains to my left. As I move my feet, I gain confidence in the rightness of my ambitions.

  Isn’t it evil to wish for something without ever attempting to have it? I ask myself. Whose malevolence was it that crept through this broken world that works to break the dreamer from the dream?

  Finally, I reach the walls protecting the garden from intruders.

  “There may be a great many men who are richer than I, but few who are stronger!” I roar to no one in particular as I grab onto the ridges of the stone wall and scale it in a matter of seconds.

  When I reach the top, I see her, the beautiful, golden-haired young woman lying down on the grass, next to a pond near the center of the garden. It’s as though she were waiting for me.

  I approach her cautiously, wondering if this is some sort of phantom dream.

  “Who…who are you?” She asks.

  “George. The owner of the farm just over there,” I say, pointing.

  “Well, George, the owner of the farm just over there. What would you like of me that you’ve come all this way in the middle of the night?” She asks, her voice as sweet as honey.

  “You,” I say boldly. “I have seen your mother traversing the garden from time to time. I know the rumors that she is a powerful sorceress, and, I expect, she would not approve of our union. But, you should know that I am a much greater lover than my station would suggest…”

  “Y-Yes, you do seem…big,” she tells me. “And, strong if you managed to climb the walls all by yourself.”

  I kneel down next to her, and she rubs her hands across my open chest, pulling down the buttons and striping my shirt from my body.

  Without hesitating, I take off the rest of my clothing and throw it aside. Then, I take her hands and place them on my firm, throbbing cock. She gasps as she feels it’s veiny girth on her delicate fingers.

  “You are very big and strong and much older than me,” she says, her eyes mesmerized by the look and feel of my penis. “Will you be my Daddy? I’m afraid I don’t have one as other young women do. And I would really love to have one.”

  “Yes,” I growl. “I will be him and give you what your witch mother cannot…that, which you likely cannot name, but desperately crave.”

  I press my lips against her soft, slender belly and pulls her legs apart.

  “The witch told me that I cannot allow anyone down there…” she says, blushing.

  “Shh,” I whisper. “I will not tell her a thing.”

  I lick her folds with the flat of my tongue until cream begins dripping out of them. Then, I take her clit in between my lips and sucks on it, making her scream with pleasure. Her body starts shaking, but I hold her in place, while my tongue plunges in and out of her hole.

  “I c-can’t take it!” She whimpers, pushing my head back, while her legs twist wildly in the air.

  I keep going, sucking and releasing her clit again and again until I’ve brought her body to the edge of orgasm. I won’t stop until I’ve tasted every last drop of her sweet essence.

  When it finally erupts out of her pussy and into my mouth, I discover that it tastes even better than sugar…like something not of this world. Like a starving fiend, I lick every drop of her juice until there’s nothing left.

  “Get ready, little Princes, because Daddy is about to give you his cock,” I roar at her.

  I rub the tip of my cock against her pussy lips. Her body is tensed, and her opening is incredibly narrow, but I will fit myself inside her one way or another.

  I plunge into her channel with a single, vigorous thrust that steals her virginity. Her walls are so tight together that it chokes the life out of my cock, a feeling that takes me to heights I did not even know my body was capable of reaching.

  “It hurts, Daddy!” She screams out.

  Silver tears stream down her face as I pound her furiously. She grabs her nipples and pinches them, while her pussy gets stretched out to accommodate my size. I take her left hand and bring it to her clit.

  “Rub like this, baby girl,” I whisper to her.

  She begins rubbing her clit in steady unison with my thrusts, and the combined effect makes her yell out so loud that all the wildlife around the garden scampers away in confused shock.

  I force my cock deeper down her passage until I bump against something that makes her cum again, this time to much greater effect. I can feel her pussy contract over and over around my shaft as her entire body writhes in ecstasy.

  “Why does it hurt so much, Daddy?” She asks me.

  “Because I had to climb your walls to get here,” I tell her. “But, now that I’ve found you, it’ll never hurt again.”

  George III

  The several hours it takes to eat breakfast with my wife feel like weeks. Every corner of my mind is filled with the reminder of how sweet the young woman’s pussy tasted and how tight her walls felt clenched around my cock.

  “Where were you last night, George?” My wife asks me, just before we’ve finished breakfast.

  “Just walking by the lake,” I lie.

  But she can tell. She can always tell when I’m lying.

  “If you go back again tonight, she’ll kill you. And, that’s all I’ll say about that,” my wife says, picking up our plates from the table.

  “The witch will?” I ask.

  “I told you that’s all I’ll say about it,” she snaps. “Do what you will with what I’ve told you.”

  George IV

  That same night, I wait again until twilight, and then, I roll out of bed, throw on my overcoat, and head out the door.

  The sky is starless, and the wind is cruel and rough. Far ahead, I see the figure of the witch and a bright, yellow light coming from the top of the tower, hanging detached like a signal.

  I run across the field and scale the wall once again. When I leap back down on the ground, I find her, once again, lying by the pond—waiting for me.

  Suddenl
y, I feel something painful around my neck. When I touch it, I prick the tips of my fingers bloody against what feels like razor-sharp thorns. Then, the witch appears, standing between me from my young lover.

  “You’ve made quite a mess of your life, haven’t you?” The witch asks me.

  “My life wasn’t worth much before I met her. So, kill me if you want, witch. I’ll die a happy man,” I yell at her.

  “Hmm, yes,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “You have a fiery spirit, and, genetically, you are quite…attractive, indeed. Handsome, strong, and well hung. You’ll make a fine specimen for breeding.”

  “W-What?!” I bark at her, alarmed.

  “That’s the cost you must pay in order to marry my stepdaughter. You will put a baby inside of her belly, but that child shall not be yours, it will be mine. All mine,” she hisses at me. “That is the cost. So, will you pay it?”

  I look over across the field—at my rundown little farm, where my miserable wife sleeps, hoping that death will come for one of us before she wakes.

  Then, I look over at my young wife to be, and I’m filled with certainty. I will pay any price to be with her.

  “Yes,” I grunt at the evil witch. “It’s a deal.”

  PART TWO

  Rapunzel I

  I look out through the window towards a view that seems to go on forever. Distant reaches of blue sky that shrink into waves of bluish-green mountains that taunt me with the promise of a reality beyond these stone walls.

  I hate my life. It isn’t right to make a girl waste her youth just sitting around like this. This is how people go crazy.

  My stepmother has done her best to provide for me everything I could ever want. From what I’ve read, I’m living the life of a princess, and yet there is something that she cannot give me however hard she may attempt to do so. It’s something that’s only been on my mind for a few months now, since around my eighteenth birthday. But, it’s an itch between my thighs that I simply cannot scratch on my own.

  My stepmother has taught me how to touch myself, but, try as I might, I simply cannot produce enough of a sensation to satisfy my urges. She has even attempted to fulfill my new needs herself, but it did not work.

  No, I suspect that I already know exactly what I need to feel fulfilled. Or, rather, I should say whom. The man who, riding his white stallion, passes by the tower each morning, backed by a small army of knights.

  The King…

  As I continue to gaze out of the window, I hear the loud stomping of horses and know that he must be coming once again. Usually, he and his men rush past my mother and me in the tower, but today, it seems he and his men are moving far more slowly. For once, they seem to have nowhere they need to be.

  Just as I have the thought that this could be the moment where the King finally has the time to notice me all the way up here in this tower, one of the knights grabs him by the shoulder and points up to me.

  The King instantly waves off his men.

  While they gallop away, he stares transfixed at me, swallowing me with his dark eyes. Even from so far away, the aggressive, entitled look he gives me dominates my soul and makes my pussy quiver with anticipation. Thinking about him up in this tower beside me, I can only imagine how I’d melt for him. He’d likely throw me down on the floor, yank up my dress, and thrust his cock through my folds as though he and I were animals in heat. He would not care if I were a virgin or not. He would not treat me as though I might break from the slightest touch. No, a man like him takes all of what he wants. We are all just playthings to him.

  I notice myself in the mirror that I keep placed on my windowsill and am cruelly reminded by it that I am a freak and that, should he see how, he would not lust for me at all. He might even have me burned alive. At least, that’s what my mother tells me would happen if an ordinary person ever discovered my secret shame…that my hair, the color of straw, is long enough that if I were to throw it over the edge of this tower, it would fall all the way to the ground and still coil like a rope in several stacks before stopping.

  Mother says that I might have over one hundred thousand strands of hair on my head, and she has forbidden me from cutting off even a single one.

  Rapunzel II

  As I continue to stare at myself in the mirror, my shame quickly elevates into anger. How dare she think she can forbid me from anything? If I am the descendent of a princess, and, therefore, a princess myself as she says I am, but she is not a queen, then what right does she have to rule me? I should rule her!

  I stand up and look down, once again, at the King, who’s now off of his horse, staring up at me from the base of the tower with lustful, ruthless eyes.

  I slide the edges of the dress I’m wearing off my shoulders. It slips off my body, and soon my big, round breasts are exposed to the King. He reaches underneath his trousers and begins to stroke himself while I pinch my nipples hard until they become stiff as diamonds.

  Then, I slowly suck my finger, lubricating it, and touch the ring of my princess hole, teasing him as well as myself with what’s to come. My finger drags inside my wet canal, and I gasp, feeling more pleasure than I ever have before.

  There’s something about having the King watch me that sends chills up and down my spine as my fingers stroke my insides.

  I rub my swollen clit in circles, lighting up my channel with hot pleasure. And, as I watch the King slide off his trousers and expose his big, veiny cock to me, I cum hard all over my hand. My princess syrup slings off my fingertips and drops like snow onto the King’s mouth.

  “This feeling is magnificent!” I scream out loud.

  “What was that, Love?” My stepmother asks, shouting from somewhere else in the tower.

  I scramble to slide my dress back on and wave for the King to leave. He looks disappointed and very confused that someone would dare to tell him what to do and does not move a single muscle. Oh well, it is his funeral.

  The door opens, and my stepmother walks into my bedroom.

  “What is magnificent?” She asks me.

  “Oh, well, I was speaking about my hair. It’s really, quite magnificent. Don’t you think?” I ask her.

  She grins, revealing a line of perfect, pearl white teeth.

  “I am so happy you’ve finally learned to embrace who you are, my love,” she tells me. “You were born for great things. Your mother was a…”

  “A princess with magical abilities, yes. I know the story, mother,” I say, turning away from her.

  “Rapunzel, listen,” my stepmother tells me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I did much to make sure that you were mine. That is why I hide you away. That is why I will tear the skin off of the body of anyone who attempts to steal you from me. So, consider this. When you entice people to your bed with your charm and with your beauty, what you’re really doing is inviting them to their deaths. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, mother,” I say. “I am yours truly.”

  Rapunzel III

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your hair!” I hear my stepmother scream.

  Her tone is more desperate than usual. I wish that one of these days, she would learn the art of patience.

  I grab my hair by the root and fling it like a golden whip into the bright blue sky. I do not bother to watch it fall to the ground. I’d rather just read the dirty book I pilfered from my mother’s bedroom. It’s filled with crude drawings of every sexual position there ever was or ever will be. How I wish I had someone to try them with. I’d try them all…