Seven – A Fairytale of Sorts



Eirwen woke, stretching languorously. Hair as black as midnight tumbled over her shoulders, stark against skin so pale it was almost translucent.  Lips, lush and ripe and red as an apple, quirked upward as she surveyed the sleeping form next to her.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she said, reaching over him to grasp his cock, warm and flaccid in sleep, in her hand.

He stirred, sighed, and settled into the bed’s embrace more fully.

“No, you don’t,” Eirwen admonished. “Everyone else is already up. Time to go to work.”

She rolled over him neatly to snug herself into the curve of his body, pressing her breasts against the hardness of his chest, her hand never leaving his cock, which had begun to stir just a bit. She traced her nails, long and sharp and as red as her lips, down his chest, tweaking first one nipple, then the other, as she did so.

His cock twitched in response.

Her hand continued its teasing journey, alternately scratching lightly, then barely brushing, over the skin of his chest, sides and belly, eventually joining its sister between his legs. By now his cock was stiff, thick and tumescent, and she drew her nails over the bulging, purple head. She felt his body tense, though still he tried to pretend sleep. A moment later, though, when she dipped her head to meet her hands and ran her tongue, sharply pointed, over the smooth, taut skin of his head, probing into the tiny slit she found there, he could pretend no more. He let out a groan, and his hand cupped the back of her head so that he could thrust himself into her mouth.

“Aye then,” he growled, his voice husky with sleep, “that’s how to wake me.”


Eirwen stood at the sink, finishing up the last of the breakfast dishes. Yes, she had house pixies that could do them, but she enjoyed the warm, sudsy water on her hands and watching the sun rise over the trees through the kitchen window. Behind her, the men’s voices rose and fell as they discussed the day’s work ahead. The mine was a complex operation, needing each of their specific skills to keep it running safely, efficiently and profitably, but it was work they loved, she knew.

Even Gregor, who seemed to have his face set in a permanent scowl. He made no move to leave the table as the others rose to make ready for their day, just sat with his hands clasped around his mug of coffee, that frown she knew so well upon his face.

She turned around, a dishtowel in her hand, and leaned back against the sink, eying him.

“Hey now,” she said, “why so grumpy?”

He shrugged, grunted, resumed his morose contemplation of his hands wrapped round the mug. “Hate mornings,” he said. “Come too damn early, they do!”

Eirwen grinned mischievously. “Is there aught that I can do to make it better?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Gregor looked up, mildly interested. “Mayhap there is,” he agreed. “And what might you do to make my morning a little brighter, Eirwen lass?”

Eirwen affected a small frown, considering her options. Then she smiled brightly, her red lips parting to reveal tiny, perfect teeth. “I can show you what I do when you’ve all gone off to work,” she said.

Gregor’s dour demeanor brightened just a bit; she knew that she had piqued his interest. He nodded slowly. “All right,” he said. “Let’s see.”

Eirwen reached up and untied the apron from around her neck, letting the bib fall to her waist. Then she unbuttoned her blouse, one slow button at a time, keeping her eyes on his all the while. “It gets hot in here,” she said, “all that cooking and washing.” She pulled the blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and shrugged out of one sleeve, and then the other, revealing a lacy white camisole beneath as she stripped off the blouse and set it neatly aside. She ran a hand down her throat to the valley between her breasts, where steam from the hot water had condensed in beads on her pearly-white skin.

Gregor’s eyes followed her fingers as she reached for the laces at the neckline of her camisole and untied them. Her lips quirked up as she watched him watching her, the perpetual frown slowly leaving his handsome face. Parting the neck of the camisole wide, she reached beneath and cupped her breasts, then drew them out of the opening. They were full and round, the left one a little larger than the right, with rosy peaks that almost matched the red of her lips. She bobbled them gently in her hands, squeezing and caressing them, pulling on her nipples slightly before leaning forward to let them hang free in the air. She swayed back and forth as though waving them in the morning breeze that had suddenly sprung up through the window.

“I have to cool the girls,” she said, looking up into his eyes and grinning.

She was rewarded by a bark of laughter and a shake of his head as he pushed back from the table. “Ach, you’d have me late for work, woman!” he exclaimed. But the scowl was gone, and he was still chuckling as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. “You’ll have to show me how you cool the rest of yerself later,” he said, and bussed her on the lips before turning away and striding out to meet the others.

Three, Four

Eirwen skipped through the woods, a song in her heart and a smile on her lips. A gentle breeze, the brother of the one that had cooled her feverish breasts earlier that morning, played about her, tugging at the hair she’d tied back with a ribbon and the hem of her skirt and petticoats. She had already delivered lunches to the others at the mine, but Henrich, Donal and Bastion had been dispatched to a clearing in the wood not far from the entrance to the mine. As she came into the glen she saw the three of them there, leaning over a testing kit they had dipped in the water of the brook that that ran through the glen.

“Perfectly clean,” one of them said, raising a beaker of the water. He turned as he did so and saw her approaching.  Even from fifteen yards away, she could see the blush rising in his cheeks.  As though sensing his sudden discomfort, the other two turned and saw her as well, a wide grin splitting Henrich’s face and a bemused expression on the other’s.

“Lunchtime, boys!” she called, and snapped out a blanket onto the warm grass. Placing their lunch bags down, she turned to embrace Henrich as he strode up to her.

“I can think of things better than lunch to eat,” he said.

Eirwen feigned shock as he squeezed her bottom through her skirt. “Henrich!” she scolded, “Is that a pickaxe in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” She leaned against him and ran a hand over the bulge that was already forming inside his trousers.

“I’m always happy to see you, darlin,'” he said. He rubbed her nose with his playfully before he covered her mouth with his own and kissed her deeply. His beard tickled her lips and she giggled into his mouth. He bent her back and then lowered her to the ground, following after to lay half across her. With sure, deft, hands he unbuttoned her blouse and freed her breasts from her camisole almost before she’d caught her breath.  He looked down at the vision she created, sprawled back on the blanket, black hair tumbled free of its ribbon in a silken mass around her, breasts free and dappled in the sun. Her skirt had bunched up to reveal long, white legs and dainty, laced panties.

As Henrich bent his head to feast on her breasts, Eirwen glanced over to see Donal standing mutely a few feet away, watching. “Come on, luv,” she called to him, “don’t be a dope. You know what I want.”

Instantly his look turned from one of bemusement to joy, and he stumbled over, nearly tripping in his haste. Eirwen moaned as Henrich’s teeth grasped a nipple. She arched her back and reached down to pull her skirt higher, spreading her legs as she beckoned Donal closer.

He dropped to his knees beside her and placed a hand on one of her legs. When he hesitated, Henrich reached over and grabbed the boy’s hand, bringing it between Eirwen’s thighs. As the youngest, Donal was still unsure at times.

But he was an apt student.

While Henrich bit, licked and kissed Eirwen’s breasts, throat and mouth, Donal tugged her panties off her hips and down, finally pulling them off completely and throwing them aside. Eirwen moaned again and lifted her hips to him as he held her, her buttocks cupped in his hands. He stared down at the downy fur in the V of her thighs, as dark and thick and tangled as the hair on her head, and then bent to her, his mouth wet and open and eager.

Lunch was served.


Sometime later Eirwen left the two of them behind, eating the sandwiches, fruit and cheese she had brought. Bastion, as she had known he would, had disappeared, but she knew he wouldn’t be far away – as indeed, he wasn’t. She found him at the edge of the clearing, leaning against a tree, watching her approach.

His clean-shaven cheeks were stained with a ruddy flush, either of excitement or embarrassment – or possibly a combination of both. He had been her toughest nut to crack, so-to-speak, and even now she had to handle him with consideration, lest he dash away.

She smiled softly as she approached. “Oh my sweet Bastion,” she said, “don’t be bashful. It’s okay if you don’t want to be a part of all that.” She waved a hand towards the blanket where the others ate their lunch. He dropped his gaze as she neared, the blush turning his ears a bright red. She stopped before him and placed a hand on either side of his face. “Let me see those beautiful eyes,” she said, turning his face up to hers. He blinked and swallowed. She traced a finger over his lips, which trembled slightly beneath her touch.

“You don’t have to join us,” she said, “but you like to watch, don’t you?” His lips parted beneath her fingers and his breath rasped out. She leaned up, as slowly and carefully as she would approach a startled buck, and touched her lips to his, not kissing him, just tasting his breath. Her tongue flicked out and ran across his bottom lip.

She felt him quiver then, and she pressed herself against him. His arms wrapped around her, his eyes closed, and he began to explore her body with his large, workman’s hands. She had reorganized her clothing, but she knew he could feel the heat of her skin through the material, and she knew he was imagining what Henrich and Donal had been doing to her, only moments before. She felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her thighs, hard and insistent. She brought her hands, which had been on his shoulders, down to the front of his pants. He was hard, and she felt a bit of wetness where he had leaked through the cloth. She slid to her knees in front of him as she unzipped his pants.

She rubbed her face against the hardness she felt beneath his briefs; felt him shudder. As she pulled his cock free, she looked up at him, caught his eyes as he looked down at her. “Let me please you while you imagine Donal’s mouth between my thighs, Henrich’s hands on my breasts,” she said, taking him between her glistening red lips.

And he did.


Late afternoon. Eirwen was in the barn, milking the cow. Once again, she had pixies that could do this for her, but she enjoyed the simple mindlessness of the task, the lowing of the cow, the hum of insects and the sweet tang of hay. She sang a song under her breath as she worked: “Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work I go…” squirting the milk into the bucket in time to the tune.

“Achoo!” The sneeze was explosive in the quiet barn. Eirwen whirled around on the milking stool to see Seamus standing in the doorway, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Seamus!” Eirwen exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Hay always makes you sneezy.”

Seamus shrugged. “I didna get to say goodbye this morning,” he said.

“Tis true,” Eirwen said. “I missed your kiss. But you’re home early–”

“I left a bit early, thought I might steal it from you before everyone else got home,” he replied.

She gave him a sly look. “It wouldn’t be stealing, Seamus luv,” she said.

Seamus stepped forward eagerly, then stopped as another fit of sneezing overtook him. Eirwen stood and took him by the arm and led him out of the barn. Once in the clearing his sneezing stopped abruptly and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Come here, you,” Eirwen said. They embraced, and Seamus ran his hands up and down her back, kissing her deeply in the gathering twilight. His hands sought the swell of her breasts and he cradled them reverently.

“Would that I could squeeze milk from them like you do that dairy cow,” he whispered, pulling them from her blouse and squeezing them over and over. He trailed kisses down her neck to her collarbone and then further until he suckled first one teat and then the other. She leaned back and gave in to the sensation for a moment, feeling the pull between her legs each time he pulled her tit into his mouth.

After a moment she reached forward and rubbed the hard shaft of his cock through his trousers.

“You feel ready for milking yourself, sir,” she said, pulling open the buttons on his fly and coaxing his cock free.

“Oh aye,” he groaned, his mouth still on her breasts. “That I am! Milk me, lass, squeeze it from me like you do yon cow.”

Eirwen needed no further encouragement, but set to, squeezing and pumping his cock until his milk squirted all over her breasts.


Bedtime. The men were settled in their chairs, smoking pipes, discussing the day or reading or playing chess. The house pixies had done their job, and the kitchen was clean and sparkling. Eirwen sighed in contentment and went to her room, there to slip out of her skirt and blouse. Her chemise and underthings had long since been discarded – they’d seen too much use and besides, she’d soaked her panties through more than once that day.

A good day, she thought.

A moment later she realized she was not alone as a strong arm encircled her waist from behind. Feeling the rub of his goatee against the nape of her neck, Eirwen chuckled and half-turned in his arms. “Have you come to give me my examination, Doc?”

She felt his grin against her hair. “I have,” he agreed. “Now onto the the bed with you, woman. Legs apart!” he barked with mock ferocity.

Eirwen laughed and did as she was bade. She remembered the day she had christened him “Doc” – a secret pet name – and the charade of his “examinations” had begun. Now each night he was the last of her seven lovers, and (she had to admit) her favorite, as she told him about each of the other six while he gave her a very intimate examination. She spread her legs willingly and he knelt on the bed between them, his cock already rising out of the snow-white nest between his legs. She looked up into his craggy face, noting the beloved snow-white of his thinning hair and the goatee he was always threatening to shave off (“it itches!”) before her eyes closed as she gave herself over to the feel of his hands on her thighs, his mouth, warm, wet, on her mound.  His tongue lapped and probed, tasting her, testing her.

After a moment he paused and looked up at her. “I taste no man’s semen in you, lass,” he said.

She sighed and squirmed, wanting his mouth again, or something, anything

He relented a bit, sliding a finger through the wet folds of her sex, teasing her, spreading her nether lips apart, probing and pinching her, opening her to his gaze. She gasped, spreading her legs farther, trying to capture his fingers so that they would slide inside her.

“Tell me,” he said at last, not giving her what she wanted, “were you good to the boys today? Did you take care of them properly?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, opening her eyes wide and looking down at him imploringly. “I was ever so good.” He made a sound half way between a chuckle and a snort and pushed first one finger, then two, inside her. Eirwen threw her head back and rocked her hips against his hand as he pumped his fingers in and out.

“Aye then, lass,” he said, grinding his fingers into her, letting her hump herself against them until she was just on the brink –

He stopped abruptly.  “Mayhap you should tell me about them.”

She gasped, her eyes popping open again to glare at him, before lowering them demurely. “Yes, Doc,” she said obediently.  And then she told him every detail, as he once again pressed three fingers deeply inside of her. She moaned and twisted and gasped, the words coming hard and quick as she began the rise to an orgasm once more.

But he stopped again. “Not yet, not yet,” he said, “I haven’t completed my examination yet.”

Knowing what he wanted, wanting it too, Eirwen rolled over onto her belly and thrust her pretty round bottom into the air. He spread her cheeks with his thick, hard hands, and examined her there as well.

“No cock in yer cunt, and none in yer ass neither,” he said, pressing a finger to that dark, tight bud.

“No,” she said, “not today…”

Not yet, she thought.

She felt his finger probe her sweet wetness once more before he pushed it inside that tighter opening. She sighed and relaxed, felt herself opening to him, as she always did. “I’ll have that sweet ass of yours myself,” he said, as she began to moan and rock back and forth against his finger. “But first, a taste of yer sweet cunt.” She felt the head of his cock parting her lips and then, with one smooth thrust, pushing inside of her.

She gasped and rocked back against him, letting him fill her, letting him coat himself in her juice, the juice she had been making all day while she cared for all her beautiful, lovely men. “Tell me again,” he said. “Tell me how you licked their cocks…how you sucked their semen from them…”

She did, her breathing as ragged as his as she did so. He rode her harder, long, deep thrusts, and felt the finger that he pressed back into her ass, preparing her and driving her forward once more toward her bliss. She feared he would explode too soon, but he pulled out at the last moment and regained control. Then he rose again to his knees and, with another hard thrust, sheathed his cock deep inside her ass. She pressed her face into the pillow, muffling the ecstatic scream that burst from her as she crested her own wave of pleasure, but he did not bother to hold back his own as, with three more rapid thrusts, he spilled his seed inside her.

Later, after he had gone to back the the room he shared with his six brothers, she lay back against her pillows and closed her eyes, smiling blissfully. Her body still throbbed, but she was well-satisfied. All in a good day’s work, she thought.

And then, as she reached for the apple beside her bed, I wonder what made my stepmother think this would be a punishment?




  1. Jane

    One word, Jade: WOW! I will never, ever, ever think of the seven dwarves the same way again. HOOOOOOOT. *Goes off to stick head in fridge* Jane xxx


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *