Men from all over come to see the princess in the tower. She’s high up above the world and she’s alone, but men are compelled to view her beauty and shout chivalrous things like, “You there, fair lady, you’re so beautiful I wrote you a sonnet.” And she listens as her suitors rhyme words like “time” and “sublime” or “protests” and “large breasts.” And from her perch high above them, she vomits.
After drinking lots of water and brushing her teeth she goes down this long staircase. She’s barefoot and her feet are like ice stepping on one cold step after another. The further down she goes the darker the space in front of her gets. At some point, her eyes could close and she’d see just as well. But she knows her way, and even though she has gone down these stairs many times she can’t swallow and she has probably been holding her breath for the last sixty steps.
She knows there is a door in front of her. She reaches out and pushes. The door is heavy and made of wood. It creaks as it slowly swings open. Inside the room is a man with no face. This isn’t to say he doesn’t have one. She just can’t see it. It’s almost as if she’s been hypnotized to believe it doesn’t exist. But he has thick strong arms. His chest expands and fills his shirt with each breath he takes. He’s standing by a fire.
He doesn’t have a sonnet to recite. There is no music. He has no song to sing. She enters the room and the man doesn’t notice her. She takes off her clothes and he stokes the fire. She gets on her hands and knees and crawls across the stone floor waiting for an acknowledgment. He doesn’t give it. She sits by his feet and rests her head on them. And finally, he looks down. He speaks, “Hello, whore.”
His words ripping into her chest like a god wanting to feed on the heart of a virgin. “You’ve come back for more? What of all your suitors? Do you not love how they try and seduce you with stories of their bravado and their promises to always love and cherish you?”
The princess’s stomach rumbles.
The man grabs her hair and lifts her gaze. He turns her head to examine the side of her face. He turns her head the other way to examine the other side. “No, I don’t see it. All I see is a filthy needy whore desperate for someone to fuck her like he wants to obliterate her.” He shoves her and she topples over. She quickly gets back on her knees and rests her cheek against his foot.
Outside men sculpt statues – one bigger than the other – depicting her beauty. Inside the man glances down at the pathetic mess and sneers. “You think I want you when you’re like this? Do you think this endears you to me?”
But she can’t help it. Her body betrays her like she’s a robot and someone else is sitting behind buttons and knobs making her do these things. And his disdain only makes her push her face deeper into his foot. If she could she’d sink beneath the floor. “You slut. You worthless little cunt. Look at you. What should I do with you when you’re like this?”
She has no idea how but she discovers her hand is between her legs rubbing her clit. Her body grinds against her fingers. The man standing above her has taken out his cock and he’s stroking it. “Do you like knowing that I want to fuck you. I bet you do. That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Ha, those fucking idiots outside, they think you’re this thing to behold. If you ever belonged to one of them he’d probably put you on the wall and have the help dust you. He’d take you off in the evening after tea but before brandy. He’d bring you into the bedroom and jerk off ten feet away from your pussy to make sure he doesn’t get his prized possession all messy.”
The slut’s hand rubs her clit faster. The man jerks his cock with more vigor.
“I know the truth. I see you for what you are. You’re already messy. You’ve been messy your whole life. You feel it at your core, don’t you? I could sense you halfway down the stairs. As you crawled across the floor I felt you getting closer. You know how I knew? Because you belong to me. You’re my property. You’re my mess. I’ll keep you in a tower. I’ll put you in a cage in the basement. Because nothing matters more to you than doing as I please. LOOK AT ME!”
She looks up at the blur of his face, and with his permission it becomes clear. The whites of his eyes are like the walls of a salt mine. His dark and gray stubble shade his cheeks. And it kills her that he’s right. She’s worthless. She’s nothing. She wants to be kept in a tower or a cage or at the foot of his bed. She wants to live the rest of her life under his feet. She’d crawl behind him until her hands and knees get so hardened they never scrape or bleed again. She’s a whore. She’s a slut. She’s his whore-slut. He jerks his cock faster and harder. And she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue. She can’t take her eyes off him.
He shoots his load in streaks of milky cream across her face, from her chin to her forehead, from ear to ear. It’s never-ending and she wants more of it. If all she’s good for is being the canvas for her master’s seed then that’s all she’s good for. Tomorrow she may be good for cuddling or loving. The weekend she might be good for getting beaten and spanked but right now she’s a filthy cum rag. Her only wish is to open her mouth wider and catch more. It drips down her chin and off her lips. It pools in the back of her throat as he squeezes the rest into her opened mouth. He grunts. He sneers. He uses his head to spread the mess in all the places he missed. And when she’s covered he says, “Go back upstairs and stand on your balcony. Let all your suitors see you now. Let them witness what I see. A beautiful cum covered princess-slut, desperate to please her master.”
Cum-Covered Princess Slut
