Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12480816.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Snow_White_and_the_Seven_Dwarfs_(1937)
  Relationship:
      Evil_Queen/Snow_White_(Disney)
  Character:
      Evil_Queen_(Disney), Snow_White_(Disney)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot,
      Wedding_Night, Loss_of_Virginity, Strap-Ons, Size_Kink, Overstimulation,
      Stomach_Bulging, Pseudo-Incest, Community:_disney_kink, Public
      Consummation, Exhibitionism
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-24 Words: 3608
****** Bedright ******
by afterandalasia
Summary
     She was only regent, the laws said, only Queen until Snow White came
     of age. It was unacceptable after all these years of planning, of
     waiting, after a marriage to a man who wanted a Queen more than he
     wanted a wife. No, Grimhilde decided; she would be Queen of this land
     once and for all.
     Her Ministers said that her solution was... unorthodox. But not
     without precedent, she pointed out, in securing the throne, nor
     against the laws of the land. There was much whispering, much debate,
     but finally they accepted that her plan was sound. She would marry
     Snow White.
Notes
     From the Disney_Kink_Meme prompt:
     The Evil Queen takes Snow White's virginity with a big ole strap-on.
     I wrapped the thinnest veneer of plot around it, but it's really just
     porn.
     Aaaaand, so, this isn't actually possible under Medieval Catholic
     law, but, uh, *handwaves*
She was only regent, the laws said, only Queen until Snow White came of age. It
was unacceptable after all these years of planning, of waiting, after a
marriage to a man who wanted a Queen more than he wanted a wife. No, Grimhilde
decided; she would be Queen of this land once and for all.
Her Ministers said that her solution was... unorthodox. But not without
precedent, she pointed out, in securing the throne, nor against the laws of the
land. There was much whispering, much debate, but finally they accepted that
her plan was sound. She would marry Snow White.
 
 
 
 
 
Snow White looked beautiful on her wedding day, radiant and nervous. She looked
exquisite in blue, and her hand shook so much that Grimhilde had to hold it
tightly to slip the ring onto her finger. But she watched her stepmother – no,
her wife now – so trustingly, and smiled so warmly, that Grimhilde almost
wondered why she bothered with the father when the daughter was so much easier
to control.
Many of her – their – people had turned out, perhaps from curiosity as much as
anything else, but Grimhilde did not much care so long as they were more
witnesses to her marriage, and to her succession. True, she would be Queen
Consort and not Queen Regnant, but something told her that Snow White would not
prove at all hard to steer, and the ministers were more used to her voice than
that of the old King's daughter, in any case. And so Grimhilde half-smiled,
graciously, to the crowds, and spoke of how good was the wedding feast and how
fine the singers and poets, and could not help but find herself more than a
little impatient for the matter of the bedding.
That was, of course, the true matter which would secure her throne. A wedding
without a bedding was no wedding at all, it was well-known, and doubtless there
was some curiosity among those who had been chosen as witnesses as to how
exactly such an... unusual union was to be considered consummated. Snow White,
of course, was the virgin and the one with whom they would actually be
concerned, but it was Grimhilde who had needed to prepare herself upon the
matter, and she believed that her plan was really quite sound.
Snow White was escorted to their marital chamber first, and had slipped beneath
the covers in only the most delicate of linen chemises. It floated over her
skin, moon-pale, one of the presents which Grimhilde had made sure to ply her
with in the weeks that led up to the wedding. If Snow White had been uncertain
of why her stepmother-now-bride had changed so abruptly in her treatment, she
had not shown it. Grimhilde entered shortly afterwards, once their witnesses
were settled but before Snow White's nervousness could have grown too strong,
her own chemise as fine a quality but with one noticeable difference – the
tented fabric at her sex.
She sat down beneath her young bride, and took her hand. “It is all right, my
fairest,” she said, soft and sweet. Snow White looked up with enormous dark
eyes. Grimhilde could remember what it was like to be a nervous, virgin bride,
and pressed a kiss to Snow White's forehead, then to each of her cheeks, and
then tilted her chin up to kiss her on the mouth.
Snow White gave the faintest gasp at the lips on hers, but Grimhilde pressed
gently on, slipping her tongue between Snow White's lips and guiding her deeper
into the kiss. With her other hand, she stroked the girl's leg, gently at first
before growing more insistent, running her thumb along the tender line of Snow
White's inner thigh and letting her nails brush against the fine fabric.
Despite the mutterings that she could hear behind her, she took her time,
tasting Snow White's mouth and coaxing along her tongue. It was only when she
felt the softening of Snow White's shoulders, the lessening of the tension in
her skin, that Grimhilde even slipped her hand up beneath the girl's chemise
and onto the delicate skin. She could feel her own heart beating faster, lust
for flesh and power both pooling in her, as she rubbed the girl’s soft thigh,
slowly coaxing them to part and cease their nervous trembling.
“Yes,” she breathed, pausing their kisses and planting one gently to the corner
of Snow White’s mouth instead. “You are being so good, my fairest, so very
good. Such a perfect wife.”
Snow White sighed, and as Grimhilde caught her mouth to kiss her again the
girl’s thighs parted fully. Her skin was growing warm beneath Grimhilde’s
hands, as rubbing turned almost to massaging, firmer and higher, to the soft
strands of hair that were scattered on her uppermost thighs.
With her other hand, Grimhilde took Snow White’s wrist and guided it to the
tented fabric in her lap. Snow White gasped at the hard shaft beneath the fine
linen, breasts brushing against Grimhilde’s arm, but she recognised more than a
little arousal to the sound.
“Would you like to see it?” Grimhilde said, guiding Snow White’s hand to stroke
along the length.
Snow White swallowed, breathless. “Yes,” she whispered, so quiet that only
Grimhilde could possibly have heard it.
Hiding her smile in another ravishing kiss, tongue delving into Snow White’s
mouth, Grimhilde pulled aside the fabric of her chemise to reveal the wooden
shaft beneath. It was exquisitely carved, a perfect facsimile of a man’s cock,
standing proud of her thighs and shifting in time with her own movements. Of
course, it was somewhat on the generous side, and she imagined that no few of
the watching men were feeling a little inadequate at the sight of it.
Once again, she bought Snow White’s hand to it, and felt as much as heard the
girl’s gasp. A glance down revealed that Snow White’s pale hand could not even
wrap fully around the wooden shaft.
There were mutters and surprised sounds from their gathered witnesses as
Grimhilde guided Snow White’s hand, stroking along the length of the shaft. Her
other hand remained, stroking along Snow White’s thigh, until she could feel
the heat of the girl’s cunt and delicate curls brushing against her fingers.
There were tiny sounds in Snow White’s throat, more like movements than
anything audible, and Grimhilde swallowed them in kisses.
Heat pooled in her own cunt. She could only feel a dull bumping against her
skin, where the base of the wooden shaft, set in its leather straps, shifted
and nudged with Snow White’s stroking movements, but knowing that it was Snow
White’s hand at all was more than enough to make her wet and determined to take
the girl.
Finally, she broke their kiss completely, and looked down to find Snow White’s
cheeks flushed, her red lips shining and still parted. Snow White looked down
worriedly at the shaft, then up to Grimhilde again.
“Will it fit?” she said.
Grimhilde had seen to it that Snow White had been told about the manner in
which a man and woman might lie together, or at least enough that she would not
be too frightened of what she might encounter in Grimhilde’s bed. All the same,
Grimhilde could see the nervousness in her eyes, the way that her teeth dragged
over her lower lip.
“Do not worry, my bride,” said Grimhilde, keeping her voice soothing. “I know
you will be able. Come, now, lie down for me.”
She assisted Snow White in taking off her chemise, revealing her milk-white
skin, softly rounded hips and slight breasts, the pale pink of her nipples.
Dark curls nestled between her thighs, shadowed beneath her arms, but it did
nothing to mar her beauty. Grimhilde arranged her pale limbs upon the sheets,
then removed her own chemise, knowing that despite her years her body was
comely still. Snow White’s eyes traced Grimhilde’s form, her fuller breasts,
but lingered longest on the strident shaft between her thighs. It was hard to
say whether it’s effect might be diminished or intensified when pointing
directly to her.
“Do not worry,” Grimhilde continued, as she knelt between Snow White’s parted
thighs. Snow White’s leg trembled slightly, but when Grimhilde’s fingers
stroked higher they found wetness already waiting. “You will be fine, my fair,
fair bride.”
Snow White’s lips parted, a perfect wet circle of pleasure, as Grimhilde ran
her fingers over her slit. It was a ghost of a sound, little more than a
tremble of breath, then became a slight moan as Grimhilde moved her wet fingers
to Snow White’s waiting clit. It was already hard, the body’s reaction
unmistakeable for all that her eyes might have been less certain, and Grimhilde
prepared her with knowledgeable little strokes.
She was glad, at least, that she had gained some knowledge from two rather
regrettable marriages. In both cases, her husband might have liked her pretty
face but did not much care for her body, and apart from a few perfunctory
unions there had not been much meeting of their flesh to speak of. Aside from
the occasional time when she had been able to avail herself of a willing
servant or two, there had been only her hand for comfort, or wooden shafts not
dissimilar to the one currently upon her form. It had left her with far more
skill in pleasing the female form than the male, but at least that would serve
her well here.
With her other hand, she teased and plucked at Snow White’s nipples, until they
were hard and swollen instead of soft and flat. The pink seemed a little
stronger, at least to her eyes, and Snow White grew increasingly breathless,
her slit increasingly wet and flushed, moisture beading on those pretty ebony
curls.
“Now,” said Grimhilde, arranging her hips above Snow White’s, “do not fear, my
bride.” She liked the way that it rolled off her tongue. She knew that Snow
White would not have the boldness to return it, or at least not with the edge
of possessiveness that Grimhilde could taste on her own lips.
She guided the head of the wooden cock to the lips of Snow White’s cunt, gently
parting them to rub against the virgin entrance there. Snow White gasped, then
gasped again, louder, as Grimhilde nudged the broad cockhead against her.
The slickness of Snow White’s cunt glistened on the dark wood of the shaft.
Grimhilde had taken great pleasure in proscribing every detail of it, each vein
that snaked over its surface, the bulge of the head. Now she took even more in
rocking it against Snow White’s entrance, feeling the slow stretch and give of
her skin.
“Ah!” Snow White’s cry turned into a keen as finally Grimhilde broached the
head within her. She gently pumped the head, and that alone, in and out, and
Snow White put a hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds that came from her, a
mixture of pain and pleasure to Grimhilde’s knowing ear.
“Very good,” Grimhilde said, over the muted sounds that Snow White made. “Oh
yes, yes, that is it. Well done, my bride.”
Snow White whimpered, breasts quivering and nipples still hard as Grimhilde
slowly bought more into her. Grimhilde looked down to watch as the shaft parted
her, Snow White’s skin stretched tight about it, her hips pushed open to
accommodate Grimhilde’s hips and the thick press of the wooden cock. She could
not feel the tightness of Snow White’s virgin passage, not with the slickness
around the cock, the shining on the wood. But she could hear Snow White’s
breathless whimpering, see the heaving of her breasts as she gasped for breath,
watch the way that her white, white teeth sank into her red, red lip as the
pain and pleasure twisted together inside her.
“It’s so big,” Snow White gasped.
Without moving her head, Grimhilde allowed her eyes to flick around the room,
to the witnesses about them. Some were shifting, not quite able to meet her
eyes, and she wondered whether it was arousal or trepidation that made them do
so. But she could feel the tension in the air, the breathless heat that seemed
to caress her very skin, the knowledge that their eyes and their minds both
were fixed upon her as she claimed the pretty girl whose legs were spread for
her.
“You can do it,” she said, soothing, encouraging. She rocked her hips, each
thrust a fraction deeper than the last, and the throbbing wet heat in her cunt
only grew as Snow White gasped and whimpered with each touch, her thighs
trembling as Grimhilde pressed deeper. “Come now, my bride, my lovely bride.”
All hers; no man would ever touch this skin, none would come closer than the
witnesses were now with their jealous eyes and surely their twitching cocks.
She wondered how many would spend to thoughts of this later that night, in
wives or mistresses or their own hands, but was sure that none would find a
vessel so beautiful as the one which she now plundered.
A keening sound broke from Snow White’s lips, but it was edged with pleasure,
and her nipples were still painfully hard. The wood shone with her, wet and
glistening, and Grimhilde could feel it on her thighs as Snow White writhed
beneath her. Barely half of the cock was inside her still, but already she
panted and moaned, clit hard and proud of its hood.
Grimhilde reached down with one hand to rub at that proffered clit, and Snow
White cried out. The shamelessness of it made Grimhilde smile, feral and
lustful, as Snow White cast one hand to the pillows about her head but with the
other splayed her fingers over her stomach, as if she could feel Grimhilde
reaching all the way within her.
“Oh yes, yes,please,” said Snow White, and never were there prettier words.
Grimhilde rubbed at her clit and slid the cock still deeper into her, and the
words broke apart into sweet encouraging sounds, and Grimhilde fancied that she
heard one of the witnesses make a strangled noise of their own.
Snow White came before Grimhilde had even fully taken her, crying out and
shuddering around Grimhilde’s fingers, giving way to keening over-sensitive
panting. Grimhilde almost fancied she could feel the clenching of the girl’s
cunt around the wooden shaft, in the way that it shifted against her own sex,
the way that Snow White’s hips now arced up towards her. Her eyes were screwed
shut, head thrown back to expose the perfect white line of her throat, and
Grimhilde considered for a moment leaving black-purple bruises there to remind
the world of who Snow White truly belonged to. But there would be no need,
perhaps, as the girl reached up with the hand from her stomach to paw at
Grimhilde’s breast, artless and clumsy but so desperate.
“Almost there,” Grimhilde purred, and true enough there was only a little over
an inch of the wooden cock still visible between their cunts.
Snow White whined, pleading, and her thighs tried to tighten at Grimhilde’s
hips. Grimhilde shifted her weight forwards, from almost seated to above Snow
White, and bowed her head to claim those plush red lips in another kiss. She
could almost taste Snow White’s arousal, feel it in her sloppy kisses and the
way she yearned upwards into Grimhilde’s mouth, in the little whimpers that
slipped from her.
With a groan, Grimhilde finally felt her hips settle flush to Snow White’s, hot
skin damp with sweat and arousal, and in truth she had not been sure that Snow
White would even be able to take the whole of the wooden shaft. But Snow White
was gasping and making those delicious sounds, and the only clear word among
them was please, and Grimhilde was hardly going to deprive her new bride of
such delights on their wedding night of all nights.
“How does that feel?” she said, aware again of the eyes around them. It was
clear enough, in Snow White’s moans and twitches, the hard nubs of her nipples
and her hips rocking minutely against Grimhilde’s. But she wanted to hear it,
and to know as well that the men and women watching would hear it as well, what
words sweet virginal Snow White might find to describe the pleasure filling
her.
“It is… so large,” Snow White gasped out, surprise still evident in her tone.
“I never thought – ah!”
Perhaps it was a sort of wickedness, Grimhilde supposed, to choose that very
moment to thrust again. But Snow White cried out so prettily, and the jolt of
her slight breasts at the yelp she released went straight down Grimhilde’s
spine.
She ran one hand down Snow White’s ribs, her hip, feeling the silkiness of the
skin of her pretty virgin bride, virgin no more. A fruit plucked just at its
sweetest, and never to be tasted by another.
“I can feel so much of you,” said Snow White. It was so quiet that the
witnesses might not have heard it, and made the lust burn hotter in Grimhilde’s
cunt.
She bent down, to better put her mouth to Snow White’s ear. “I want you to feel
me,” she replied. “In every moment of every day, my wife, I want you to know
this feeling of having me inside you.”
Snow White moaned, a more guttural sound even than before, as her hips shifted
up against Grimhilde’s thighs. Grimhilde’s hand brushed over her skin, the
plane of her stomach, then lingered there for a moment as she drew back and
thrust again, more of the cock at once this time.
There. Grimhilde gasped herself as she felt the shift of Snow White’s stomach
at the thrust of her cock, the wood stretching out Snow White’s virgin passage
until it shifted her very skin, changed the very shape of her. Her thighs
trembled, but she drew back, further still, and thrust once more to be sure
that she could feel it against her hands. Snow White cried out in pleasure at
the intrusion, at the claiming of it all, and Grimhilde felt her clit hot and
hard and wetness running down her skin from how much she has taken of the girl.
But, “Please,” Snow White said again, voice cracking and softening and sweetly
musical all at once, and who was Grimhilde to deny her? “More!”
Grimhilde obliged, in firm thrusts of her hips, bracing her hands on the soft
linen sheets and clenching her fingers into them as she wished she could clench
them around Snow White’s alabaster skin. But later, later, she could leave
bruises where none would see them, could see how beautiful they would look on
the flawless canvas just waiting to be marked. But for now she claimed her
bedright and her bride, and Snow White gasped and asked for more so prettily,
so perfectly, and hot delight pooled in her cunt and sparked in her brain.
The air was thick with the smell of sex and the sound of flesh slapping on
flesh. Snow White’s virgin whimpers have become a whore’s moans, and somehow
that is all the better to hear, to know that in so short a time a simple piece
of wood so wielded can draw something so primal from the girl. With a groan,
Snow White wrapped her hands around Grimhilde’s arms as if she were bracing
herself, and panted in staccato counterpoint to the wet smack of flesh, and
Grimhilde could feel sweat tickling on her back and her legs but did not care
as she fucked her stepdaughter, her bride.
The second time that Snow White came, it was with an almost surprised cry, as
she bucked against the bed with the force of Grimhilde’s fucking. She came so
hard that tears sparkled on her eyelashes and she began to quiver, every bit
the virgin bride again; it was that, the tremble of her lip, the way that the
grip of her hands became just a little more desperate but that her hips
remained so open and spread for her, that finally drove Grimhilde to her own
climax. She pressed deep into Snow White, as if she truly were spending her
seed in the girl, ground her clit against the wooden base of the shaft and saw
stars behind her eyes as the pleasure rushed through her.
All the years of planning, the waiting, and Snow White would be so much more
pliable than her father had ever had been. And more pleasurable too, so much
more pleasurable, so sweetly willing and now so willingly debauched beneath
her.
She fell still, panting as well, still with the shaft buried deep and Snow
White’s thighs around hers. For a moment, Grimhilde closed her eyes, feeling
the rush of pleasure still ebbing and flowing like waves, hearing her own
heartbeat pounding in her chest. Then she became aware of gentle fingers
brushing her temple, and looked down again to see Snow White, brow glittering
with sweat and lips bitten-red but still so fair, so beautiful, looking up
almost shyly as she tucked back a stray lock of Grimhilde’s hair.
“Thank you,” Snow White breathed, just for her despite the eyes still around
them, “my wife.”
And Grimhilde smiled a lion’s smile, and knew she had beneath her hands the
best of prizes, not just a willing kingdom but a willing Queen to rule it
through. And so it was, she imagined, that truly happy endings came to pass.
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