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The true tale of Sleeping Beauty.

"Haaahahahaaaaaaaa." Cried a dishevelled Glinda. "Am I too late again?"

"No no," cried the King. "You are most welcome and in the very essence of time." He explained the very recent events and implored the Good Witch (ptui) to right the wrong that had been wrought. Glinda thought about this for a minute or two, leaving those present on tenterhooks for as long as she dared and to gain the most dramatic effect.

"I have it." She announced. "This is my gift to your child. The pricking and subsequent orgasm shall not have fatal consequences but shall merely send the young woman into a deep and abiding sleep for an hundred years. When she will be awakened by a prick of a different kind." She smiled beatifically.

"An hundred years?" Wailed the King.

"An hundred years?" Bemoaned the Queen, who had woken at the sound of breaking glass.

"What, in the first place, is the good of sleeping for an hundred years, and in the second place it's A hundred, not an hundred. Nobody says an hundred, it's A hundred."
"Well I'm sorry but it's the best I can do at short notice." Glinda said, and stalked off in a huff (actually it was a minute and huff, I always remember a face, but in your case I'll make an exception, 'ats a my brodder, he dem or a duff) to find the other witches in the kitchen where she would arrive 35 seconds too late.

Anyway. King S. and Queen B. made immediate proclamation, without really thinking it through, that any kind of sex involving pricks, in the Kingdom was henceforth banned, abolished and verboten. No flashing, no drawing, no descriptive writing, no videos, no dvds and definitely no websites, ever again.

"But can't we just have the ban when the princess gets old enough to understand?" asked the people.

"No." Said the King. "Children learn things more quickly than you'd think possible, according to modern educationalists and we cannot take the chance that the Royal heir should die before accession. For who can say if we should bear more fruit. And thinking about it now, we won't be able to because of the proclamation. But, what's proclaimed is proclaimed and that's it. "

The Princess's school years were an occasion for mass thanksgiving as the King (not so much the Queen, as she was bi- and getting plenty of girl on girl action) in a rare fit of acquiescence (due in large part to the various rallies and protests the like of which had not been seen since the miner's strike) allowed an annual three-weekly, veritable orgy of penile sex when the Princess went to Royal Camp.

The Princess enjoyed many, many celebrations of her birthday, which conveniently fell on Hallowe'en every year and so was treated to Masked Balls of gigantic proportions due to the two-fold nature of the festivities. And in all her almost 18 years never once had occasion to even have sight of a male member.


Every year, for three weeks in the month of August, Hermione (late of the palace kitchens) ran a summer camp for Princesses of the local Realms. This being a land far, far away and in a time long forgotten there were a great many local Realms in quite a small geographical area and so Hermione had quite a comfortable living. She ran three 'camps'. One was for Princesses, one for Princes and The Other One.

The camps were segregated in this way for two reasons. 1) We're talking about school age royalty here and school age means no opportunity, let alone desire, for any members of the opposite sex to become more than handshakingly acquainted. 2) The fees could be made proportionately more extortionate due to the kinder being both Royal and segregated.

The Other One, was a year round camp specifically concerned with certain 'practices' between consenting adults. Clean linen every morning, three hot meals, several 'chambers' below ground and definitely NO animal antics of any kind. At all. Not even in the stables provided. Or the kennels.


Studly and his Queen B.

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