The Punishment

The Kingdom of Corona did not sleep for two days. The "Festival of the Lost Princess" turned into a kingdom-wide roar of joy. Flowers were thrown from every window, banners were hung from every lamppost, and the ale flowed like water in the taverns.

I walked alongside the Royal Carriage during the Grand Parade, acting as the personal guard to the Royal Family. Rapunzel sat between the King and Queen, wearing a gown of softest pink silk, her head crowned with a diamond tiara that sparkled in the sun. She waved to her people, smiling that radiant, infectious smile that had charmed the entire city. To them, she was the epitome of grace, purity, and royal dignity.

But I knew better. Every time the carriage slowed, Rapunzel would glance down at me walking beside the wheel. Her smile would change, just for a fraction of a second. The corners of her eyes would crinkle, and her gaze would drop to my belt, then snap back up to my face with a look of secret, smoldering heat. She was a Queen to them. But beneath the silk and diamonds, she was a **** to me. Her body was still sore from my claiming, her inner thighs tender, constantly reminding her of who truly owned the Lost Princess.

That night, after the final toast was drunk and the castle quieted down, Rapunzel came to my guest quarters. She had changed out of the heavy ceremonial gown into a lighter, though still elegant, night dress. She didn't knock. She slipped inside and leaned against the heavy oak door.

"Is it time?" she asked softly. Her expression was hard, stripped of the public joy.

"It is," I confirmed, standing up from the edge of the bed. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"She spent eighteen years locking me in a tower," Rapunzel said, her voice cold. "She told me the world was dark. She told me men were monsters. I want to show her exactly what kind of monster I found."

We left the warmth of the upper castle and descended. The air grew colder with every flight of stairs. The plush carpets were replaced by cold stone, then by damp earth. The smell of lavender and roast duck faded, replaced by the stench of mildew, rust, and despair.

We reached the deepest cell in the dungeon, the "Oubliette." The guards bowed to us and unlocked the heavy iron door, retreating to give us privacy.

Mother Gothel was there. She was chained to the wall by her wrists and ankles. Without the daily dose of the flower, the years had started to touch her, yet the magic hadn't abandoned her completely. It clung to her with last effort, preserving a dark, mature, weird kind of beauty. Her hair had lost its raven blackness, turning a shimmering silver that cascaded down her shoulders. Her skin was paler, and there was a **** edge to her features, but she wasn't a withered crone, still possessing a seasoned, undeniable allure that made her hatefulness all the more potent.

She looked up as we entered. Her eyes were sunken, but the malice in them was still burning bright. "Rapunzel," she croaked, her voice like grinding stones. "You came back. You finally realized your mistake."

"I made no mistake," Rapunzel said, stepping into the dim torchlight. She stood next to me, her hand resting possessively on my bicep. "I came to say goodbye."

Gothel’s eyes flicked to me, and her lip curled in disgust. "With him?" she spat. "That beast? That ruffian? Look at you, Rapunzel. Standing next to filth. He ruined you! He touched you with his dirty hands! I told you men were filthy! I told you they only want one thing to despoil your flower!"

Rapunzel didn't flinch. She didn't look hurt. A slow, cruel smile spread across her face, a look I had carved there myself.

"He did touch me," she agreed, her voice smooth and taunting. "He touched me everywhere, Mother. Inside and out. In places I didn't even know I had."

Gothel recoiled against her chains. "You whore! You disgusting, tainted little-"

"Quiet," I commanded. My voice boomed in the small stone cell, vibrating off the walls.

Gothel flinched, silencing herself out of pure instinctual fear. I turned to Rapunzel. I looked down at the Princess in her fine clothes. "Show her," I said simply. "Show her who you serve. Break her heart."

Rapunzel nodded. She stepped away from me, moving directly into Gothel’s line of sight. She was only a few feet away from the chained witch. Rapunzel gathered her expensive skirts. She didn't curtsy. She dropped to her knees on the filthy, cold dungeon floor, not caring if the stone stained her dress.

She looked up at me, eyes filled with devotion, then back at Gothel with pure mockery. She reached up and undid my belt.

Gothel gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "No... no! Don't you dare! Not in front of me! Have you no shame?!"

"None," Rapunzel whispered.

She unzipped my trousers. The sound was sharp and loud in the silence. She reached in and pulled my cock out. It was semi-hard, heavy, and thick, stirring to life immediately at the sight of the Princess kneeling in the dirt.

"Watch, Mother," Rapunzel hissed. "Watch what I do for my Master. This is what my mouth is for now."

She didn't hesitate. She leaned forward and took me into her mouth. She didn't do it delicately. She attacked it. She sucked me with a practiced, sloppy enthusiasm that I had taught her on the boat. She bobbed her head vigorously, her cheeks hollowing as she took the shaft deep. Slurp. Suck. Gulp.

The wet, lewd noises echoed off the stone walls, magnified in the small space.

Gothel screamed. She thrashed against the chains, turning her head away, but she couldn't block out the sound. "Stop it! Stop it! You're destroying everything! You're filthy!"

"Look at her, Gothel," I taunted, leaning back against the wall, my hand tangling in Rapunzel’s hair, guiding her rhythm. "Look at your innocent flower. **** on it. Loving it."

Rapunzel made eye contact with the witch. She gagged intentionally, letting saliva spill down her chin, her eyes locked on Gothel’s, filled with a defiant, triumphant lust. She was servicing me to kill the woman Gothel thought she knew.

I felt the pressure build rapidly. The taboo of the scene, the hatred of the witch, and the skill of the Princess were too much. "Rapunzel," I grunted, my hips twitching. "Move."

She knew the command. She popped off my cock instantly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She scrambled to the side, leaving the line of fire clear.

I stepped forward. I stood right in front of the chained, screaming witch. I grabbed my throbbing cock. Gothel looked up, realizing too late what was happening. Her mouth opened to scream.

"This is for eighteen years of ****," I snarled.

I fired. SPLAT.

Thick, hot ropes of white seed shot across the small space. My aim was perfect. I hit Gothel directly in the face. The first rope landed across her eyes, blinding her. The second hit her open mouth. The third plastered her nose and grey hair.

She shrieked, a gargled, horrified sound, sputtering as the warm, sticky fluid coated her withered skin. It dripped down her chin, matting her eyelashes, sealing her lips.

"You animal!" she wailed, shaking her head wildly, trying to wipe it off with her chained hands but failing. "It burns! It's on me! Get it off! I'm unclean!"

"I'm not done," I growled.

I didn't zip up. I relaxed my bladder. I released a heavy, forceful stream of hot yellow piss. It arced over the cell floor and hit her square in the face.

I washed the cum down with a torrent of urine. I soaked her rags. I soaked her hair. I sprayed her face, drowning her screams in my waste. The smell of ammonia filled the cell instantly, overpowering the mildew.

Gothel gagged, retching, squeezing her eyes shut as she was baptized in absolute filth. She tried to turn away, but there was nowhere to go. I emptied my bladder completely on her, marking her as the lowest form of life in the kingdom.

As the stream tapered off, I went to tuck myself back in, but Rapunzel stopped me. She didn't say a word; it was pure reflex. She leaned in, her face the picture of devotion, and extended her pink tongue. She caught the final, stray drop of urine hanging from the tip, then licked me clean, swirling her tongue around the head to ensure I was spotless before I returned to my trousers.

It was completely natural to her now, to taste my waste and call it sweet.

When I was finally dry, I zipped up. Gothel was slumped against the wall, dripping with white and yellow, broken, humiliated, and sobbing into her own chest. She was a ruin.

Rapunzel stood up. She smoothed her dress. She looked at the woman who had stolen her childhood, now covered in the waste of the man who had saved her. She didn't look disgusted. She looked satisfied.

She walked over to the witch, leaning down close. "Goodbye, Mother," she whispered, her voice like ice. "You were right about one thing. The world is dark, wet, and dirty. And I absolutely love it."

We turned and walked out of the cell, leaving the door open just enough for the guards to see the wreckage, leaving Mother Gothel to rot in the dark, smelling of my dominance forever.