The Prince's Slut
by Mira Turner
Text Copyright © 2012 Mira Turner
All Rights Reserved
Smashwords Edition
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
This file is licensed for private individual entertainment only. The book contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into an information retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photographic, audio recording, or otherwise) for any reason (excepting the uses permitted to the licensee by copyright law under terms of fair use) without the specific written permission of the author.
The Prince's Slut
by Mira Turner
Rapunzel was 19 the first time the prince came to her. Life in the tower wasn't so bad, really. She watched the world from her windows, the clouds drifting lazily overhead and the trees blowing in the wind so far below. She wondered about many things, as a child does- what are birds? Did other people walk around and talk to one another, or was the world a lonely place where only lonely girls lived in their lonely towers, just as she did?
The sorceress never answered her questions. She rarely spoke, in fact, except to shout up to Rapunzel when she wanted to climb her hair. Sometimes she brought new dresses, when the old ones didn't fit anymore. There had been a time not so many years ago when all the bodices had to be let out, and Rapunzel would take off her clothing at night to stand naked in the moonlight and wonder at the full, round globes which had grown out of her once flat chest.
The day the prince came, she was humming a made-up tune to herself. The call came from far below.
"Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your golden hair!"
It sounded different. The voice was deeper, stronger, but nevertheless she knew to obey the cry. Gathering up her silky tresses, she cast her braid out the window.
This time, it was not the witch who climbed Rapunzel's rope of hair. Upon seeing a strange face appearing against the silhouette of the sinking sun, she was nearly paralyzed with fright.
"Who... who are you?" She managed to whisper.
The stranger pulled himself laboriously through the window frame and staightened up. He was older than she was, that much was clear, although his age was difficult to guess with precision- twenty-nine perhaps, or thirty. His hair was black as midnight and he was clean-shaven, his muscular body wrapped in clothing much finer than Rapunzel had ever seen.
"I am Prince Davide," he said. "Allow me to gather your hair for you."
It was a strange introduction, to be sure. Rapunzel, half in fright and half in shock, spoke not a word while the prince pulled her braid into a neat pile on the floor. As he worked, he continued to speak.
"I came across this tower while hunting, and found its isolation curious. We are a league from the nearest village, you know, and I had never heard it spoken of before although my father's castle is but four hours' ride from this place. One day not long ago, I observed an old woman calling to you, and not moments later your braid was cast out for her to climb. I wondered, naturally, who might be inside, and my curiosity only grew when I spied your beautiful face gazing out."
He paused, and rose again to look directly at her. "I see that my efforts were not in vain. You are fairer even than I imagined, lady." His eyes roved slowly over her body. "Tell me," he continued. Have you ever felt a man's touch?"
Rapunzel was frightened, but dared not ignore the prince's question. "Prior to you, sir, I had never before laid eyes on a man."
"Ah, then you have been deprived of the greatest pleasures of this world." Prince Davide stepped closer to her. "And do you know what a prince is? Are you aware of the power my station commands?"
"Yes," Rapunzel answered meekly. "Yes sir, I believe so. I have read stories of princes in the books the sorceress brings to me. Your father is the king."
"He is, and I am his firstborn son." The prince smiled, showing white teeth. But it was not a kind smile. "You are my subject and you must do as I command in all things."
"Yes," she whispered.
"Tell me then, Rapunzel. Do you play with your own body? Do you touch yourself at night and make yourself moan?"