Hansel & Gretel: A Fairy Tale For Grownups

Chapter One Once upon a time there were a brother and a sister, named Hansel and Gretel. Hansel was a handsome youth, well-proportioned, with blue eyes, and Gretel had grown into a very pretty girl, with long brown hair and a graceful figure. They lived in the middle of the woods with their father. Their mother had died when they were only children; as a result, though both brother and sister were now full-grown, they were innocent of the outside world, and in particular knew very little of the arts of love. Their pleasures were simple: the birds and animals of the woods, the plants and trees, the changing seasons. One day they set off to walk in the woods. They were so happy talking to each other, picking flowers and listening to the birds singing, that they lost their way. For hours they wandered, trying to find their way back. At last they came upon a quaint little cottage in a clearing. “Perhaps the people who live here will give us something to eat,” said Hansel, who was hungry. “I’m so tired,” said Gretel. They knocked on the door. It was opened by an old woman. She had a crooked nose and hardly any teeth and was very ugly. But Gretel spoke to her kindly. “Please, dear lady,” she said, “might we sit down and have a drink of water?” The old woman gave a cackle. “Come in, my dears,” she said. “Do come in.” She held the door wide. Hansel and Gretel entered and sat down. “Are you lost, my dears?” the old woman croaked. “I fear we are,” said Hansel. “Well,” the old woman said, “let me get you something to eat and drink and then I will show you the way home.” She went into her kitchen and came back with some cups of milk and pieces of bread. The two young people ate and drank greedily. Gretel thought the milk tasted funny, but she was so thirsty she drank it all down. Then she started to feel even sleepier than before. “Why don’t you put your feet up for five minutes, dear?” suggested the old woman. Gretel lay down on the floor in front of the fire and in a minute was fast asleep. Hansel did likewise. After what felt like a short sleep, Gretel woke up and rubbed her eyes. She was astonished to see that she was naked. The old woman was sitting in a chair staring at her. Gretel tried to get to her feet but found that her ankles were shackled together by an iron chain. “What is this? What have you done to me?” she cried. The old woman cackled. “You belong to me now, little girl.” “Where’s Hansel?” Gretel demanded. “I’ll show you,” said the old woman with a cruel smile. She caught hold of Gretel and pulled her towards the door. The old woman looked frail, but she had an iron grip. She held Gretel so tight she hurt her. She took her outside; Gretel couldn’t walk properly with the shackles on her feet. Round the side of the house was a small wooden cage. Inside was Hansel. He was naked too. “What have you put him in there for?” Gretel cried. “We don’t want to take any chances, dear, do we?” the old woman said. She took Gretel back inside. “Now get to work,” she said. “There’s a lot to be done round here.” “I’ll not be your slave,” said Gretel defiantly. “We’ll see about that,” said the old woman. She picked up a whip and began to lash Gretel across her naked back. The whip stung like mad. Gretel tried to get out of the way, but the shackles made it hard to move fast. “There’s a pile of potatoes that want peeling, and then there are dishes to wash, and the floor to sweep, and clothes to darn. So get started,” the old woman screeched. With that she began lashing Gretel harder than ever. The whip fell on her back, her bottom, her shoulders and even on her delicate bosom. Gretel squealed and put up her arms to protect herself. At last the old woman put the whip down. “Right,” she said. “Get to work.” Gretel peeled the potatoes and did the dishes. The old woman put the potatoes on the stove to boil. Gretel realised how hungry she was. When the potatoes were done, the old woman set them in a bowl and put butter and salt on them, and sat at the table to eat. “Where’s my food?” Gretel said. “Put the potato peelings on to boil. That’s all you’re getting tonight.” Gretel began to cry. She felt so tired and hungry and afraid. The old woman picked up the whip. “Do you want some more?” she asked. The woman started whipping Gretel again. Gretel tried to stop crying, but she couldn’t help snivelling. The whip stung dreadfully, and Gretel quickly put the potato peelings on to boil, as she had been told. When they were done the old woman took a few and tossed them out of the window so that they fell into Hansel’s cage. Gretel had to eat hers straight out of the pot, standing up. The old woman was now eating a piece of cheese and an apple. But she didn’t give Gretel any. “This is where you’ll sleep,” the old woman said. She threw a dirty old blanket on the floor. By the fireside was a long, heavy chain fastened to the wall. The old woman padlocked it to Gretel’s shackles. “We wouldn’t want you running off in the night, would we, dear?” she asked. In the morning Gretel saw that she had red marks on her bosom from the whipping. She thought she must have even more on her back, because it felt sore. The old woman made her do two hours of chores before she was finally given a piece of dry bread and half a cup of water. “Are you going to keep us here forever?” Gretel asked. “My father will come looking for us.” “He won’t find you, my dear,” said the old woman. “We’re much too deep in the woods for that. But no, I’ve got plans for you.” “What sort of plans?” The old woman leered at her. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? I think you’ll fetch a good price. And so will your handsome brother. I know the sort of people who will pay good money for their pleasure.” “Pleasure? What pleasure?” Living with her father in the woods, Gretel knew nothing of the world. Her father had told her very little about men and women and what made them different from each other. She and Hansel had talked about it once or twice, but he knew no more than she did. Now and again, however, some men had come to their cottage, charcoal burners and wood-cutters. They had looked at her in a way that made her uncomfortable, as though they might do something to her if they dared. But Gretel wasn’t sure what sort of things they might want. “The pleasure any man gets with a pretty young girl, of course,” said the old woman, “or a youth.” She made an obscene gesture, which even an innocent girl such as Gretel could not mistake. Gretel blushed bright red. “My father told me always to keep myself pure,” she said. “I mustn’t let men touch me.” The old woman threw her head back and roared with laughter. “That’s why they’ll pay a lot of money,” she said, “because you are so pure.” She seized Gretel by the arm. With her other hand she reached out and squeezed one of her bosoms, then pinched the n****e. Gretel cried out. No one had ever done such a thing. She tried to get away, but the old woman held her firm. Then she put her hand between Gretel’s legs. Gretel struggled and at last broke free. “Well, my dear, no need to examine you. I’ll wager no man has ever been in there unless it’s your handsome brother.” She cackled with laughter. Gretel went bright red again. She was outraged by such obscenity. Gretel was put to work all day. The old woman beat her several times with a bunch of birch twigs she kept in a pot of water, to keep them supple. Gretel thought she had never known such pain. How cruel the old woman was! Hansel seemed to be given hardly any food. Once when the old woman’s back was turned Gretel stole a piece of bread from the larder and tossed it out of the window, into Hansel’s cage. But when the old woman went outside she saw Hansel eating it. She snatched it away from him and stormed back in the house, seizing the birch twigs and thrashing poor Gretel until she wept piteously. That night Gretel lay on the floor by the fire, crying until she went to sleep. When she woke up the old woman wasn’t in the room. Gretel looked out of the window. Hansel was kneeling in his cage. The old woman had her hand through the bars, holding Hansel’s thing. Gretel had never seen him without his clothes on before they arrived at the old woman’s cottage. She couldn’t help but be fascinated to see how big Hansel’s thing was, how it stuck out in front of him, long and stiff. The old woman seemed to be rubbing it. Why was she doing that? Gretel knew it was something she shouldn’t be watching, she blushed and moved away from the window. Suddenly she felt a hot flush all over her body. She had a strong desire to put her hand between her legs and touch something. She’d done that once or twice, in the middle of the night, even though she knew she shouldn’t. But the old woman came back in the cottage and the moment passed. The next day the old woman was very excited. Some men were coming to visit her. She gave Gretel a raggedy old dress to wear, but Hansel was left naked. “We don’t want them seeing all the goods till they show me the colour of their money,” she said. There were four men. Two of them were dressed in fine clothes and looked rich. The other two were rough men in working clothes. Gretel shrank from the way they all looked at her. The old woman gave them some cider to drink and addressed them. “These two slaves are on offer. You may bid for either of them or for both together. In a moment I’ll give you a chance to examine them, but first I need to see that you have money.” The two rich men pulled out their purses and poured gold coins onto the table. One of the rough men told the old woman that he had a cart full of wood outside, and would cut more wood for her, for a year if she accepted his offer. The other rough man pointed to a big bag of charcoal he had brought with him. I’ll let you have all the charcoal you want for a year, he told her. “Very well,” said the old woman. “Come outside.” They all went out to the cage where Hansel was kept; the old woman dragged Gretel outside too. She could see that Hansel was afraid; she wished she could help him. “See what a pretty boy he is,” said the old woman. “Look at his lovely round bum. Wouldn’t you like to squeeze it and spank it, and wouldn’t you like to bugger such a pretty young ass? And what about his c**k? He’s still young, but it’s a good size. And he’s vigorous. He’ll come ten times a night if that’s what you want. Or perhaps you want a slutty youth to suck your c**k? I am sure if you take a whip to him you can get him trained in no time. Now you can touch.” One of the rich men put his hand in the cage and grabbed hold of Hansel’s c**k. Hansel tried to get away but the cage was too small. Gretel watched in shame as Hansel’s c**k got bigger when the man began to rub it. Surely Hansel couldn’t enjoy such a thing? She tried to look away, but since she had never seen a man’s c**k until Hansel had been put in the cage, and had certainly never seen one getting big, it was hard to drag her eyes away. One of the rough men also put his hand in the cage. He grasped one of the cheeks of Hansel’s bottom and squeezed hard, laughing as he did so. “I suppose I hardly need to ask if I would be the first to get pleasure from this pretty young bum?” he asked. The old woman cackled. “I can guarantee his sweet little asshole has never been breached,” she said. The other rich man grabbed Hansel by the hair and brought his face to the edge of the cage. Undoing his breeches, he thrust his c**k through the bars, forcing it into Hansel’s mouth. Gretel was profoundly shocked. Never in her most private moments had she ever imagined that a man might do such a thing. She shuddered to think how much shame her brother must feel as the man thrust in and out of his mouth. The old woman watched, clapping her hands together with delight. “That’s it, my lovelies, enjoy yourselves. Isn’t he a fine boy, ripe for the taking? Isn’t he worth a princely sum?” The men were so enamoured with the prospects for pleasure that Hansel seemed to afford that they seemed to have forgotten all about Gretel. The old woman called out for their attention. “No more fun till you’ve paid! Come inside now and have another drink, gentlemen, and take a good look at the charms of this pretty girl, a virgin just ready to be plucked by he who has the deepest purse.” She took Gretel by the arm and pushed her back inside the cottage. The men followed. The old woman pulled Gretel’s ragged dress right up to her waist. Underneath she was naked. “Look at that sweet little cunny,” the old woman cackled. She put her hand between Gretel’s legs, squeezed hard and roared with laughter. Gretel blushed bright red. Then the old woman turned her round. “Look at that tight little ass!” she cried. “Wouldn’t you like to give it a thrashing, turn its pure white to red and purple with your whip?” She smacked Gretel hard on the bottom and laughed again. “And when you’ve plucked her virgin cunny, you can enjoy the tightest little asshole you will ever find.” Gretel was profoundly shocked by this stream of obscenities. She had never heard such language. But it seemed to spur the men on. They crowded round, each eager to prod and probe her, pinching her well-formed but delicate breasts, squeezing her bottom like they might squeeze a melon at the market, and two of them daring to force a hand between her legs, insolently trying to enter her with their fingers. Gretel managed to wriggle away before she could be penetrated, but the old woman ripped the dress from her back, so that now she was totally naked, exposed to the lustful eyes of all four men. “Now,” cried the old crone, “let’s see who wants her most. And her brother, with the lovely c**k and ripe little ass. What am I bid?” Bidding was brisk. Eventually Gretel was sold to one of the rich men, the younger of the two and the most smartly dressed. Gretel was relieved she had not been bought by one of the rough men, but she thought her purchaser had a cruel look in his eye. She shuddered at the fate that lay in store for her. Hansel, on the other hand, was knocked down to the wood-cutter. Gretel shrank in fear at the thought of what awaited her poor brother, the abuse and violation that was certain to follow. The wood-cutter was surely a brute. But Gretel did not have much time to worry about her brother. The man who had bought her, and whose name was Olric, was anxious to take possession of her and carry her away. Once he had paid the old woman the purchase price, he threw Gretel over his shoulder and carried her outside. He laid her naked across the front of his saddle and tied her hands and feet with a rope. Then, jumping on his horse, he kicked hard and they set off at a trot down a narrow path. Gretel managed to look back once. She saw that Hansel, still naked, had his hands tied together and was roped to the back of the wood-cutter’s cart, which set off in the opposite direction. Olric rode steadily for two hours. At last he reined in his horse. Jumping out of the saddle, he untied Gretel. She sank wearily to the ground. But Olric dragged her over to a tree. He stood her up against it and wrapped her arms round the tree, tying her wrists together on the other side. The rough bark rubbed against Gretel’s soft breasts and belly. Olric went to his saddle bag and took out some bread and cheese. He began to eat heartily. Gretel stared hungrily as the food disappeared into his mouth. He opened a flask of wine and drank copiously. He saw Gretel watching. “Are you hungry, girl?” he asked. He approached and gave her a small morsel of cheese. It was not enough to satisfy her hunger; the old woman had kept her half-starved. Olric also gave her a sip of wine, which revived her somewhat. Then he went over to a hazel bush nearby. Taking out a knife, he cut himself a switch, stripping the twigs from it, then swishing it to and fro. “Please don’t beat me,” Gretel said piteously. “I’ll do what you want if you don’t hurt me.” “You’ll do what I want anyway,” he said with a laugh. He raised the switch above his head and brought it sharply down across Gretel’s rump. She cried out. It was a stinging pain, sharp and biting. Olric raised the switch again. The second blow fell parallel to the first. Gretel moaned piteously. Why was the man beating her? She had done nothing wrong, refused no commands. Olric took no notice of her cries of pain. They were deep in the forest; no one would hear. He plied the switch steadily, the blows landing in the centre of her bottom, which now smarted as if on fire. Why was he doing this, Gretel wondered again. What possible pleasure could it give him to beat a poor defenceless girl? Yet still Olric persisted, the switch raising a pattern of red welts across Gretel’s pretty, round white bottom. She sobbed as each stroke fell, the tears streaming down her cheeks. What had she done to deserve such cruel treatment? Why was he impervious to her cries? What sort of man took pleasure from a young girl’s pain? Olric laid the switch across Gretel’s behind so hard that at last it broke. He tossed it aside and undid his breeches. Gretel closed her eyes. Innocent as she was, she knew what was coming. Olric dispensed with any niceties. His c**k was big and hard and he rammed it into her without ceremony; poor Gretel was deflowered in an instant. She cried out; the pain was not as bad as the beating, but she felt outraged, her modesty breeched, her honour despoiled. Olric thrust into her as hard as he could, heedless of her distress. Perhaps he even enjoyed it; her tears seemed if anything to urge him on to use her harder. At last with an oath he spent himself in her, his c**k kicking and bucking as he ejaculated. He withdrew and did up his breeches. He sat down and took a swig from his flask, pleased with his work. Poor Gretel hung her head in shame. Her body felt bruised and soiled. She could feel Olric’s seed begin to trickle out of her and down her thigh. What was to become of her? What was happening with poor, dear Hansel? Had he suffered a similar fate?