Rapunzel greeted me that next morning as she always had, her voice full of boundless energy and anticipatory joy for what the day would bring. It was one of the qualities l loved best about her; her endless optimism lay untarnished despite a lifetime of imprisonment in her tower. I made to rise from our bed with a contented sigh, puzzled at first by my inability to do so, blinking the dust of sleep from my eyes as I focused on her the impish smile on her face.
“I grew bored waiting for you to wake. We will have to have a very serious conversation about your new rules, Ariel. Already, you have been a naughty girl,” she laughed merrily as she tapped me on the nose playfully with her fingertip. “And lesson number one, naughty girls get punished.”
She settled on the mattress with a grace only slightly marred by her youthful enthusiasm, and appraised me, tucking her lip between her teeth as if in deep thought. As for me, I simply lay there, staring at her, transfixed, my memory of the night before slowly returning. I’d made a promise, an oath in fact, to give myself to her, not as a lover, but as a pet, a plaything. The journey from rescuer and teacher had led, inevitably to this place. My role as equal had vanished, eclipsed like the sun by the shadow of the moon.
Vaguely, I recalled dreams of serpents coiling about my limbs. Not nightmares certainly. Nor unpleasant. Now I understood why. I lay exposed before her, my apparel but a distant memory, her fantastical hair coiled around my ankles and wrists, seeming to wake as I did, twisting restlessly. As for Rapunzel…
My god, she was magnificent. Clothed only in a veil of her own hair, she shone like the sun, her smile radiant, her lavender eyes clear guileless, if not wholly innocent. Twisting towards me, her hand coming to rest upon my quivering thigh, caressing it absently, her smile turned dark.
“I do hope you won’t make me do this again, Ariel. I find the thought of punishing you most tedious, to be truthful, and it makes me cross.”
When I attempted to reply, her hair filled my mouth wrapping around my head, tightening until I was both blind and dumb, though not deaf. Worse, my limbs began to stretch, her tresses spreading me wide, my muscles complaining as my body was drawn into the shape of St. Andrew’s Cross. When it was over, after she had released me, I discovered she’d used a quirt, something she’d acquired at a nearby stable. Most used them for goading cattle or as a form of punishment for an unruly horse. At least, I later mused, livestock had a layer of bristly hair as protection while I had none.
Once again, she left her mark on me. The harsh kiss of leather left me fighting for breath, unable to scream with the pain I felt at first, nor the pleasure I felt later as her attention shifted from my parted thighs, out stretched arms, and soft belly to my ripe tits and swollen nipple and finally to my sopping wet cunt.
Oh, God, the humiliation of my arousal outweighed any other thought as she cruelly teased me, leaving harsh red stripes paralleling my outer lips, the leather biting the tips of my once pink nipples as it flickered out time and again, and then my throbbing clit receiving the same treatment. I thrashed, fighting her hair’s grip, struggling to break free of it, cursing her silently as my body betrayed my, my hips lifting in anticipation of each blow, pumping and thrusting the empty air, frustration when she paused in her mistreatment renewing my struggles until finally I could endure no more and I exploded in an orgasmic frenzy that left me dizzy.
Afterwards, she freed me, holding me as I clung to her, sobbing with both remorse and relief, thanking her, if you can believe that, for what she’d just put me through. And oh, my words weren’t empty. Once again, I could not claim to have cum that hard for anyone, nor ever imagined doing so. If there had been any question before that I belonged to her, it was quelled forevermore. There was only one thing left, a simple ritual that I accepted without pause. A delicately sturdy band of black leather encircling my throat, a simple moon-shaped silver tag dangling and inscripted with my owner’s name as well as my new station; Property of Rapunzel
o-o-o
And so, a new chapter had begun. Some things remained consistent; Rapunzel’s natural zeal for learning, her curiosity, her boundless enthusiasm for knowledge both conventional and unconventional; in the realm of wickedness, her creativity knew no bounds. Our games evolved, certainly. No more was I her mentor. Now I was her plaything, a role that I dove into with an exuberance that astounded the both of us. She had made me promise that I would do all that she asked of me, and I did that and more. Nothing was too depraved, nothing too perverse for either of our sensibilities and despite it all, or perhaps because of it, we were happy.
We travelled. After eighteen years hidden away in her tower, Rapunzel was anxious to see the world. We never spent too long in one place, aware that my ex-employers might still be casting their net for my Mistress although as time passed, I slowly relaxed my guard. Days turned to weeks and weeks to months. Soon we found that a full year had passed since I’d freed her from her lonely prison. She decided that it warranted a special evening for both of us; a night of revelry. Had I known what she had planned I might have been less anxious to celebrate. Or, I confess, perhaps more.
We attended a costumed masquerade that night, one that had the reputation of being scandalously risqué, fitting her mood perfectly.
“I intend to make a statement.” She confessed without embarrassment as she dressed me for the event, and then herself, her choices of attire leaving me anxious and aroused.
We arrived by carriage well after dark, the warm spring air heralding the onset of summer. There was little doubt that we made an impression when we were announced, her clothed only in the golden silk of her hair and a red feathered mask, and me dressed in green and red ribbons, attached to her wrist by a matching leash. She’d taken great care to arrange the cloth streamers so that they highlighted, rather than concealed, my most intimate of places, drawing everyone’s gaze to my smoothly shaved mound and my pink tipped breasts, my nipples perking out, aroused by their attentions and appreciative murmurs. Even the whisper of ‘slut’ that circulated as we passed heightened my lust as I wondered what Rapunzel would do to prove the accuracy of their remarks.
It was a feast for and of the senses. Music swirled around me as I trailed behind Rapunzel like an eager dog. Laughter spilled from the crowd, as well as the tinkle of wine glasses almost, but not quite, masking lurid whisperings. I could detect with little effort the mixed musk and perfume of everyone we passed, but most especially of my Mistress, an unmistakable scent of rosewater and sex, not so different from mine.
Gaily dressed men and women, each and every one masked, brushed against me as we assumed the curved stairs, opulent marble cold against the soles of my feet. She paused, once or twice, as she rose above the crowd, helping herself to the finest chocolates or succulent fruit on platters carried by servants chosen for their beauty as well as their skills, allowing me to taste only her fingers after devouring the delights, bidding me to lick them clean before resuming our climb.
I was aware of the eyes upon us, staring hungrily at her as we passed, some reaching out to her, then thinking better of it and fondling her pet instead. I admit that it wasn’t as unpleasant as I’d imagined, to be touched intimately by strangers. By the time we had ascended to the upper floor, I was warm with desire.
“Ariel, kneel here.” She commanded, her girlish voice taking on a regal tone.
I knelt, spreading my legs apart as she tapped the insides of my thighs with her toe, displaying my cunt for her and anyone else who might bare witness, my back to the railing so that anyone below might get an ample glimpse of my bare bottom.