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Goose Girl
Story Excerpt
When she was quite young, Princess Svana was betrothed to a fabulous prince whose father was a friend of the queens' from way back in the disco epoch. Even the tabloid reports confirmed prince Everitt was honorable, open-minded and handsome as a fairy's own child. Svana couldn't have been more delighted with the choice, or more excited about her future prospects. Despite her personal principles, the queens had taught her the overarching importance of good looks. A handsome husband meant everything.
On the occasion of her eighteenth birthday, it was time for Svana to take her leave of the caring queens and marry the good royal.
Unfortunately, prince Everitt lived at a great distance. In preparation of her departure, the aged queens packed for their daughter many costly trinkets, jewels, and cups made of gold and silver. In short, they sent with Svana everything which appertained to a royal dowry, for they loved their baby girl with all their hearts.
As you might expect, Svana was not particularly happy to leave behind her many friends, the beloved queens, her birth mom, her pets, and that green grocer who never forgot to import a few mangos from faraway lands. So, to appease their darling daughter, the queens sent along a maid-in-waiting, Rosamunda. The strong-as-an-ox servant was to ride with the princess and hand her over to the bridegroom, making very certain nobody messed with their baby girl along the way. And messing with Svana was a distinct temptation for all who beheld her, such was her incredible beauty. Apart from that one time with the green grocer, which didn't really count since it was underwater, she'd managed to keep herself relatively un-messed-with.
Adult Excerpt
After riding Falada, the speaking mare, for some distance, Svana began to feel a delicious sensation between her legs. The rhythmic bouncing pressure against her lower lips generated an undeniably pleasant heat at the apex of her thighs. This was by far her favorite part of riding, this beautiful wet burn. In time, she could no longer bear the suspended bliss of it and, bringing Falada to a halt in the center of a vast field, Svana surprised her waiting-maid with a request:
"Oh, my dearest Rosamunda, riding this way has my precious cavern flowing with love nectar. I feel I would die without immediate gratification. I beg you, dismount, and take a drink from my cup."
"You have got to be kidding me," Rosamunda replied, halting her ride as well. "First of all, precious cavern? Love nectar? Who the hell talks like that, Miss Priss? If you're horny, you can bloody well get yourself off. I don't choose to be your servant."
Svana was not surprised by her maid's harsh words. They had grown accustomed to one another's ways, even in this short time together. So, in her great thirst, the princess laid her head down against Falada’s great rump. After pulling her skirt tails up well over her waist, Svana tapped with one finger at her engorged lower lips. So sensitive were they from the riding that even the slightest pressure sent waves of pleasure throughout her body.
The wetness between her thighs was hardly a shock, for Svana's pussy was extremely responsive. She was every bit as likely to appreciate a codpiece askew as she was to behold the great tumbling cleavage of a peasant woman. Bodies delighted her eyes, and as she observed the puffy white clouds against the bright blue sky, she reflected upon such bawdy sights as those.
Rubbing her fingers against the juicy folds of her craving cunt, Svana panted and moaned. Her ample breasts jumped as she fingered herself, her stiff nipples popping out from under her corset. Her nipples were nearly as dark as the red of her bodice, though her flesh was nowhere near as gold as the precious thread woven through. Stroking the waters of her swollen pussy, the princess abandoned herself to the immensity of her personal pleasure.
When she was quite young, Princess Svana was betrothed to a fabulous prince whose father was a friend of the queens' from way back in the disco epoch. Even the tabloid reports confirmed prince Everitt was honorable, open-minded and handsome as a fairy's own child. Svana couldn't have been more delighted with the choice, or more excited about her future prospects. Despite her personal principles, the queens had taught her the overarching importance of good looks. A handsome husband meant everything.
On the occasion of her eighteenth birthday, it was time for Svana to take her leave of the caring queens and marry the good royal.
Unfortunately, prince Everitt lived at a great distance. In preparation of her departure, the aged queens packed for their daughter many costly trinkets, jewels, and cups made of gold and silver. In short, they sent with Svana everything which appertained to a royal dowry, for they loved their baby girl with all their hearts.
As you might expect, Svana was not particularly happy to leave behind her many friends, the beloved queens, her birth mom, her pets, and that green grocer who never forgot to import a few mangos from faraway lands. So, to appease their darling daughter, the queens sent along a maid-in-waiting, Rosamunda. The strong-as-an-ox servant was to ride with the princess and hand her over to the bridegroom, making very certain nobody messed with their baby girl along the way. And messing with Svana was a distinct temptation for all who beheld her, such was her incredible beauty. Apart from that one time with the green grocer, which didn't really count since it was underwater, she'd managed to keep herself relatively un-messed-with.
Adult Excerpt
After riding Falada, the speaking mare, for some distance, Svana began to feel a delicious sensation between her legs. The rhythmic bouncing pressure against her lower lips generated an undeniably pleasant heat at the apex of her thighs. This was by far her favorite part of riding, this beautiful wet burn. In time, she could no longer bear the suspended bliss of it and, bringing Falada to a halt in the center of a vast field, Svana surprised her waiting-maid with a request:
"Oh, my dearest Rosamunda, riding this way has my precious cavern flowing with love nectar. I feel I would die without immediate gratification. I beg you, dismount, and take a drink from my cup."
"You have got to be kidding me," Rosamunda replied, halting her ride as well. "First of all, precious cavern? Love nectar? Who the hell talks like that, Miss Priss? If you're horny, you can bloody well get yourself off. I don't choose to be your servant."
Svana was not surprised by her maid's harsh words. They had grown accustomed to one another's ways, even in this short time together. So, in her great thirst, the princess laid her head down against Falada’s great rump. After pulling her skirt tails up well over her waist, Svana tapped with one finger at her engorged lower lips. So sensitive were they from the riding that even the slightest pressure sent waves of pleasure throughout her body.
The wetness between her thighs was hardly a shock, for Svana's pussy was extremely responsive. She was every bit as likely to appreciate a codpiece askew as she was to behold the great tumbling cleavage of a peasant woman. Bodies delighted her eyes, and as she observed the puffy white clouds against the bright blue sky, she reflected upon such bawdy sights as those.
Rubbing her fingers against the juicy folds of her craving cunt, Svana panted and moaned. Her ample breasts jumped as she fingered herself, her stiff nipples popping out from under her corset. Her nipples were nearly as dark as the red of her bodice, though her flesh was nowhere near as gold as the precious thread woven through. Stroking the waters of her swollen pussy, the princess abandoned herself to the immensity of her personal pleasure.
25 pages, Nook
First published May 29, 2011
2 people are currently reading
40 people want to read
About the author
Giselle Renarde
787 books115 followersEroticist, environmentalist, and pastry enthusiast Giselle Renarde is a proud Canadian, supporter of the arts, and activist for women’s and LGBT rights. For Giselle, a perfect day involves watching a snowstorm rage outside with a cup of tea in one hand and a chocolate truffle in the other. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.
The best way to keep up with Giselle's career in erotic fiction, as well as her desirous commentary and hyper-analysis of every facet of social existence, is to visit her Donuts and Desires blog at http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com.
Select blog posts exploring topics of gender and transgender are also available as podcasts at http://gisellerenarde.podbean.com/
For more information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...
The best way to keep up with Giselle's career in erotic fiction, as well as her desirous commentary and hyper-analysis of every facet of social existence, is to visit her Donuts and Desires blog at http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com.
Select blog posts exploring topics of gender and transgender are also available as podcasts at http://gisellerenarde.podbean.com/
For more information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
November 28, 2015
This was like reading an outline for a story. It is sparse yet has short cuts to make it even less--birth mom is shortened to b-mom. Not in dialogue but the actual narrative. The plot is ridiculous.
This is a lesbian erotica.
Mature content
This is a lesbian erotica.
Mature content
Displaying 1 of 1 review