Blushing at Both Ends (14 page)

‘My hut is not smelly,' said Garth, ‘and nor am I. It is clean and warm and far more comfortable than this palace. There is good food, and soft beds, and my goats are friendly. My mother is dead these three years, but you may use her bedchamber and have privacy.'

Snow White stared at him contemptuously. ‘I am honoured by your offer,' she said, ‘but I regret I must decline.'

‘Oh well,' said Garth, ‘of course, if you are afraid . . .' And he turned to go.

‘I am afraid of nothing!' cried the Princess, a sudden brief colour appearing in her cheeks.

‘Then come,' said Garth.

‘Very well,' said Snow White. ‘I shall.'

‘My dear,' said the King, ‘are you sure? You must take your waiting women to care for you, and I will furnish a bodyguard.'

‘No waiting women,' said Snow White haughtily, ‘and no bodyguard. Or we shall have this yokel saying that I, Princess Snow White, am afraid of him. He would not dare touch me.'

‘But my dear –' began the King.

‘No more,' snapped Snow White. ‘My mind is made up. Let none from the Court accompany me. Return to your hut, peasant, and prepare it to receive a Royal
Princess
. Tomorrow you may come and escort me thither.'

‘Very well,' said Garth quietly, and he left.

The next day Garth returned to the palace with a horse-drawn cart. The Princess climbed into it, suppressing a shudder, and he drove her to his hut on the edge of the forest. On their way he spoke to her in friendly fashion, but she stared ahead and made no reply.

The hut stood in a sunny clearing just inside the forest. Around it a herd of goats cropped the grass. When they saw Garth they stopped eating and came over to greet him. As he handed Snow White down from the cart, they sniffed curiously at her.

‘Go away, horrid creatures,' she cried and struck out, hitting one of them on the nose. It snorted and ran off, shaking its head.

‘Do not hit my goats, Princess,' said Garth softly. ‘They mean you no harm.'

‘I shall hit them if I wish,' said she. ‘Why should I not?'

‘Because I ask it,' he replied. ‘And because, if you do, you may have cause to regret it.'

‘Do you dare threaten me, rustic oaf?' cried Snow White angrily.

‘I threaten nobody,' said he. ‘But I give you fair warning.'

Snow White tossed her pretty head scornfully and marched into the hut. It was indeed warm and clean and comfortable, with the agreeable smell of fresh bread baking in the oven. There was a table, a chair or two, and an old oaken chest. In one corner a door led to a bedchamber. In another corner was a single bed. When Garth came in after tending the horse, the Princess was standing impatiently in the middle of the hut.

‘Help me to a chair, churl,' she ordered.

‘Help yourself to one,' said Garth amiably, and went to the oven.

The Princess gasped, but sat down. ‘I am hungry,' she announced.

‘Good,' said Garth. ‘The bread is new-baked and ready. I hope you like goats' cheese?'

‘Bring me some and I shall tell you,' said Snow White, making a mighty effort to condescend.

‘It is here on the table,' said Garth. ‘Come and try it.'

‘Certainly not,' said Snow White. ‘I am a princess, I do not fetch my own food. You must serve me.'

‘Must I?' said Garth. ‘Well then, you may get rather hungry.' And he sat down at the table and began to eat with a good appetite. His favourite nanny goat wandered in and nuzzled him affectionately.

Snow White stared in amazement. ‘Do as I say, peasant,' she ordered, ‘or I shall have you punished.'

‘Will you?' said Garth, quite unabashed. ‘By whom, pray? There is no one here but you and me. If you want to punish me you must do it yourself.'

‘Very well, I shall,' said the Princess. She got up, walked over to where Garth sat and slapped him hard across the face.

He blinked, but kept his temper. ‘That, too, I would advise you not to do again,' he said quietly.

‘I shall do as I wish,' stated Snow White. ‘I care little for a yokel's threats. Now do my bidding and serve me food.'

As Garth was about to reply, the goat nuzzled Snow White's legs. She cried out in fury and kicked it. The animal bleated in pain and ran off.

To her astonishment, the Princess felt her wrist grasped from behind. She swung round. In Garth's eyes she saw something she had seen in no man's eyes before. It was anger.

Alarmed, she made to slap him again with her free hand. But before it struck his cheek that hand too was gripped, as firmly as the other.

‘I gave you fair warning, Snow White,' said Garth quietly. ‘I told you not to hit my goats or me. But you
think
you can hit anyone you like. Well, you cannot – for all you may be a princess, and my liege lady. This, my girl, is the first lesson you must learn.'

Holding both her wrists in his strong grip, he drew her towards him. ‘You gave your word!' cried Snow White. ‘Is this how you keep it?'

‘I gave my word I would not harm your virginity,' replied Garth. ‘Nor shall I. I made no other promise.'

He reached to the table and picked up a flat implement shaped like a small paddle. It was a thin slat of wood some twelve inches long with rounded corners, a handspan across at its broader end.

‘Do you know what this is, Princess?' he asked.

‘Why should I?'

‘No reason at all. But I shall tell you. It is a magic wand.'

‘There is no such thing,' scoffed Snow White. ‘These are tales for children.'

‘Maybe so. Nonetheless, this wand can work certain kinds of simple magic. Its true name is a spatula, and I use it for making cheese. But it has other uses – as you, my lady, shall soon find out.'

The next thing the Princess knew, the floor was six inches from her nose, and she was face-down across Garth's lap. ‘Let me go at once!' she cried in rage. ‘What do you think you're doing, you wretch?'

Now, strange as it may seem, she really had no idea what was to happen to her. She had never known a mother, and her father had spoilt her from birth. None in the Palace dared reprimand her, though once or twice her nurse's palm had itched to give the young madam what she was asking for. But the old woman had prudently stayed her hand, and never in her eighteen years had anyone lifted a finger to Princess Snow White.

Still, she had heard and read of spankings being given to naughty children. And now she realised with horror
that
the unspeakable indignity of a smacked bottom was about to happen to her, a Royal Princess.

‘How dare you!' she shrieked. ‘Let me go, you churl! This is
lèse majesté
! Release me at once! I shall summon help!'

‘Summon away,' retorted Garth, as he rucked her dress up above her waist. ‘There's nobody within five miles but me and my goats. So yell all you want; you'll have your bottom well and truly tanned all the same. What you do about it after that is up to you. But at least I'll have given you what you richly deserve, and I wager that's more than any other man has dared.'

‘Help!' cried Snow White, struggling wildly. ‘Let me go, you wretched peasant! You shall die for this!'

‘Maybe I shall,' said Garth equably, ‘and maybe I shan't. But one thing is certain beyond all maybes, my girl. Princess or no, you're in for the finest spanking of your young life.'

Ignoring her struggles and outraged shrieks, he gazed on the charming prospect before him. The Princess was tall and slim, but also shapely, and her bottom proved to be pleasingly curved. Nothing now protected its ripe contours but white silken drawers. Few people wore underwear in those days, and Garth had never seen such a garment. He paused and stroked its softness. But the tender flesh beneath felt softer still, and with one swift movement he peeled down the sheer fabric to reveal as alluring a bottom as one could wish to see. Full and white and flawless, it swelled delectably upwards, inviting prompt attention.

‘You have a very pretty bottom, Princess,' he told her, fondling the cool smooth flesh. ‘Yet it has one great flaw. It is far too white for my taste. I would fain see it red – red as a rose, red as a sunset, red as a ripe apple. And soon it will be so.

‘For such, my lady, is the magic that this wand of mine shall work. At present, as these pale cool cheeks
attest
, you are the Princess Snow White, cold and haughty. But when my wand has worked its magic then behold! you shall be transformed into Princess Rose Red, she of the blushing cheeks.

‘You may say that such magic will not last, that soon you will become Princess Snow White once more. And I cannot gainsay you. But though my magic prove short-lived, there is no shortage of it. Whenever it is needed it will be ready to change you again from Snow White to Rose Red – as often as may be required.

‘And now, Princess,' said Garth, raising his spatula, ‘let the spell begin!' So saying, he brought the flat wooden blade down hard on Snow White's right bottom-cheek, making her cry out as much from surprise as from pain. Never before, in all her eighteen years, had she felt such a burning smart. It was as though a hot iron had seared her flesh. A bright-pink patch sprang out on the flawless whiteness of her cheek. Garth regarded it with pleasure, then with equal vigour imprinted its twin on her other cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Again and again, the spatula's merciless blade stung the soft flesh of Snow White's squirming bottom. She shrieked and struggled with wild indignation, kicking her long legs and threatening all manner of retribution.

After a dozen spanks had imprinted their signature on the snowy mounds, Garth paused to admire his handiwork. A warm pink blush now suffused every inch of Snow White's rearward curves, enhancing their ripe beauty.

The Princess, thinking her punishment was over, tried to rise, but Garth's strong right arm still held her pinioned over his knee. ‘Oh no, my sweet,' he said, gently stroking the blade of the spatula across her stinging cheeks, ‘we're not finished yet. Not by a long way.

‘You have three lessons to learn, young lady, and the first of them is that simply being born your father's
daughter
does not allow you to maltreat any creature you like with impunity. Such is your first lesson, my girl, and I hope this spanking will help you remember it. So you may threaten all you wish, my lady, but to no avail. Until I choose to stop, you will find yourself being soundly spanked on your bare bottom, and there's nothing you can do to prevent it.'

So saying, Garth tightened his grip on the Princess and resumed her punishment. If truth be told, she was not the first young woman he had treated thus. But she was the prettiest – and by far the most deserving of chastisement. So for ten minutes or more he spanked her to his heart's content.

At first the Princess screamed and threatened, then she wailed and pleaded, and at last she wept and promised to be good, if only he would please, please stop spanking her poor sore burning bottom. But, no matter what she said or did, the spatula mercilessly rose and fell, working its magic to transform her lovely bottom-cheeks from snow white to rose red.

And, while Garth spanked her, he talked to her. Not angrily, but in warm gentle tones, telling her how richly she deserved to be spanked, and how pretty her bottom looked as it blushed and quivered beneath his stinging spanks.

‘You're not really a bad girl, Snow White,' he said, never ceasing to smack her roundly. ‘But you are selfish and thoughtless and you've been badly spoilt. So spoilt, indeed, that I think you need to be well spanked for many years to come. And whoever has the spanking of you, my sweet, will be a very lucky man.'

And when at last he released her, she fled gasping and sobbing to the refuge of his mother's bedchamber and lay there face-down on the bed, nursing the fiery throbbing masses of her bottom and shedding hot tears of pain and fury. How dare he? How
dare
he? The brute! The peasant! That she, the Princess Snow White, whom
no
man addressed save with respect, whom few dared touch even with their fingertips – that a countrified boor, a
goatherd
indeed, should dare to – to – to
spank
her, to thrash her bare bottom with a kitchen implement! It was outrageous! It was treasonable! She, the first lady of the land, had been – the humiliation of it! –
spanked
by a goatherd! He would die. She would have him thrown in the deepest dungeon, flogged, tortured, executed! The very next day she would summon the royal guard and this cloddish yokel, who knew no other way to woo a woman than to beat her, should die. Slowly and painfully, while she gloated over his agonies . . .

Hugging this comforting thought to her, Princess Snow White sobbed herself to sleep. Some hours later she woke with a start. It was deep night, but rays of moonlight filtered into the room. She lay there, forgetting for a moment where she was. Then an unaccustomed smarting in her nether regions brought it all back to her. She was in the goatherd's hut – and he had
spanked
her!

Yet the feeling of outrage had left her. Her bottom no longer hurt so much. The pain had turned to a tingling warmth, and the Princess was aware of a new sensation: the heat of her young blood coursing in her veins. As if flowing from her spanked rear end, the aroused blood spread its heat, and Snow White, still half-asleep, found her fingers straying to a place not far from her bottom where the warmth needed urgent attention.

Her secret cleft was hot and wet to her touch. As her fingers attended to her needs, an image swam unbidden into her mind: the face of Garth the goatherd, now sleeping but a few feet away. His face as she had seen it, angry and determined, just before he had put her across his knee – and treated her so shamefully.

But perhaps she had to some extent deserved it? The thought surprised her. For the first time in her life the
Princess
tried to imagine herself in someone else's shoes. Selfish and spoilt, Garth had called her, even as he smacked her bottom. She saw herself, an absurd figure in that simple hut, putting on airs, demanding attention, slapping his face. Might a spanking not have seemed the apt response to such behaviour?