Black Bear and the Handmaiden

By Angharad Jones

In this highly eroticized re-telling of the classic Grimm Brothers' fairy tale, readers will fall in love with the two beautiful, lustful sisters, Snow White and Rose Red. Snow White, with her porcelain-like skin, blonde hair, and demure pink lips, wants to marry Jacob Grimm, but he, the wayward lad, wants to marry a lass with money and a title; sadly, Snow White has none of these attributes. At last, in despair of ever finding a husband within the village, she agrees to marry Richard Haus, a wealthy widower from a distant land. But what is she to think of the rumors people tell? Is Richard truly a Bluebeard, with his succession of deceased wives?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denise Gwen
• Release date: Jul 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005099565

Book preview

ONE

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, on the other side of a tranquil sea, there lived a widow with her two beautiful daughters. Sweet, good-natured girls, kind and attentive to their mother, Snow White and Rose Red could not have been more unlike in appearance and character. The one, Snow White, with alabaster skin, blue eyes, pink lips, and hair the shade of spun honey, was shy; the bolder of the two, Rose Red, her faced dotted with tiny freckles, green eyes that sparkled, ruby red lips, and hair the color of midnight, was bold. But for all their differences, the sisters loved each other, and their mother, dearly.

At the end of the little flagstone path leading to the front gate, grew two rosebushes; one blossomed white, the other red. Seventeen years earlier, at the time of the girls’ birth, their father planted those rosebushes, and every spring-time, when the roses bloomed their delicate petals, the girls gathered them up and kept them in a crystal bowl to remind them of their father. Every morning, Snow White and Rose Red placed a rose on their mother’s tea tray, so that she too could be reminded of the deep and abiding love her husband had borne for her.

Springtime passed into autumn, and then it passed into the cold darkness of winter.

Ensconced at the hearth on one particularly brittle, bitterly cold night, as the wind howled and tore at the shutters, the girls worked on a quilt together while their mother read passages to them from the Bible. At once, a cacophony of sound shattered their tranquility; the pounding of their front door.

Oh dear, Mama. Snow White cried out in terror. It’s a monster.

Oh, no, dear child, Mama said, gazing out the shuttered window. It’s merely a fellow traveler, frozen through. Her gaze shifted to Rose Red. I always keep an open door to any wandering traveler. Let him come in and take shelter from the cold night air.

Rose Red did as her mother bade. She hurried to the door, slid back the bolt, and in blasted an icy chill as their traveler burst inside. But no man, an enormous black bear.

Oh, no. Snow White screamed. He’ll eat us up alive.

No, no, no, I assure you, the bear’s voice rumbled in a deep baritone. I mean you no harm, dear ladies. I merely seek shelter from the icy wind.

And indeed, the poor black bear did appear to be half-frozen, close to death. Icicles clung to his fur; ice matted down his eyelids; only his large brown eyes expressed his warmth of spirit.

Rose Red took the bear by his enormous arm. Come and warm yourself by the fire.

Snow White crept to her mother’s side as Rose Red showed the giant black bear to the warmest spot on the hearth, directly in front of the roaring fire. The bear stretched himself out on his belly, and slowly the icicles melted from his paws and his arms, and his eyelids fluttered closed and he drifted to sleep, slumbering through the night.

In the morning, when Snow White and Rose Red arose and trotted downstairs to the sitting room to check on the bear, they saw with a pang of regret the bare hearth; he’d slipped away.

Oh dear, Snow White lamented. He’s gone.

Yes, Rose Red said. And without saying good-bye.

Snow White looked her sadness, but Rose Red felt it keenly. She hoped to speak to him that morning, offer him a pot of tea. The only visible proof of his presence at their hearth, a few stray strands of black fur dotted here and there on the hearthrug. Rose Red bent down and picked up a handful of fur, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. Much as she expected, the outside fur felt coarse and bristly, but the downy fur from the inside of his coat, surprisingly soft to the touch. Bringing the strands of fur to her nose, she inhaled deeply the scent of the woods, of dirt, of earth; yet, in the downy soft fur she sensed an undercurrent of tenderness. Tears sprang to her eyes and she dropped the fur into the fire.

Oh look, Rose Red, look.

Snow White stood in the doorway, clutching an empty pail, her slight form silhouetted in the morning haze. She pointed a trembling finger at the walkway. There, neatly stretched out across the flagstones, lay a freshly-killed stag. She gazed at Rose Red with a look of terror, but Rose Red laid a reassuring hand on her sister’s shoulder.

Black Bear left it for us to cook and eat.

Oh. An easy smile replaced the look of fear. Well, and what a kindness on his part.

For sure, Rose Red agreed. To re-stock our low provisions.

As Rose Red hoped, Black Bear returned the following evening and again stretched himself out on the hearth before the fire. He listened as Mama read Bible passages to them, and watched as the girls worked on their embroidery.

As the girls grew more accustomed to the bear, and he to them, they began to pummel him and to punch him playfully with their small fists.

One night, Rose Red struck the bear hard, harder than she meant, and the bear cried out, Alas, Rose Red, Rose Red, would you have your suitor dead?

Rose Red did not know what to make of this, and so she withdrew her small fists and did not pummel the bear as before. His words held a strange effect over her; they cast a pall over her senses. She avoided his gaze for the remainder of the evening. A peculiar stirring rose up from deep inside her, and it troubled her. But after a time, she grew easy with him again.

Black Bear kept himself discreet; the girls knew of the ways of the animals, for they birthed calves, milked cows, and observed how the bulls behaved; but Black Bear did not do anything to cause the girls or their mother any discomfort. One evening though, shortly after his arrival, Black Bear fell into a deep sleep; the girls believed he would sleep through the night, but he startled them at one point by mumbling aloud, No, I shan’t let you.

Startled, the girls looked up from their embroidery and cast uneasy glances at one another. They glanced over to Mama, seated in her armchair, but she dozed, the book of sonnets turned face-down on her lap.

Remaining still for a long moment, then Black Bear abruptly rolled over onto his side so that his back faced the hearth.

No right to do that, go away. I command you, leave now.

At that moment, Rose Red’s gaze fell on the dark patch of fur where Black Bear’s manhood reposed. What she saw pulled the breath from her lungs. Highly improper to gaze upon it, yet she did not pull her focus away from his manhood, startling erect, fully engorged. His manhood swelled to a magnificent size as Black Bear muttered under his breath. No, no, no. I beseech you—aaargh!

This last burst of noise startled Mama; she jumped, noticed her book of sonnets on her lap, adjusted her reading glasses, and resumed reading.

Startled awake, Black Bear lay there for a long moment, then his eyes focused and he gazed at Rose Red. She sensed her cheeks flaring scarlet and she ducked her head, focusing on her embroidery. Out of the corner of her eye, Black Bear concealed his manhood as he rolled over onto his stomach.

Ah me, he sighed. Mama, will you read a sonnet to me?

Gladly.

Snow White and Rose Red glanced furtively at one another from under their eyelashes, but spoke not a word. Rose Red tried to push the image of Black Bear’s throbbing manhood out of her mind, but as she retired to bed that night, her thoughts kept returning to the image of his massive manhood, looking so eerily human.

No further incidents of that nature occurred, and so the winter passed peacefully enough, with Black Bear arriving just before dusk, stretching out on the hearth, and falling asleep as the girls worked at their sewing. And in the morning, there’d be another fresh offering—a wild pig, a brace of pheasants, some lovely chestnuts.

On the last day of winter, as the snow melted from the ground, Black Bear arrived at the appointed hour, stretched himself out on the hearth, but to Rose Red’s surprise, he did not sleep. He looked at each of the women in turn, his gaze falling on Rose Red last, his brown eyes warm and full. You saved my life this cold, hard winter, he said, his voice thick with emotion. You restored my soul and my heart, and I shall never forget your kindness.

You saved us, Rose Red said. What would we have done without our daily offerings?

I shall never forget it, Black Bear said. And springtime arrives, and with it, my departure. I must go deep into the woods; for as you know, as the days grow warm and the soil soft, the wicked dwarves will be tunneling out of the ground soon.

Yes. Snow White shuddered. The dwarves.

Yes. As the ground freezes solid during the winter, the dwarves cannot tunnel to the surface; but once the ground thaws, they can chop their way back above-ground and do their mischief. He glanced at the widow. Keep your daughters from harm, and do not trust the dwarves. They are dangerous, evil creatures.

Indeed they are, the widow replied.

And with that, Black Bear rose to depart.

Rose Red followed him to the door, and as Black Bear lifted his paw to unlock the latch, only Rose Red saw something strange; a sliver of gold thread shining just under Black Bear’s left arm. It glistered in the bright morning light. He did not see Rose Red noticing this; she started, then the sliver of gold shimmered from sight.

Had it been an illusion?

Black Bear stood in the doorway, gazing down at her. Take care of yourself, Rose Red, for I would not have my lover dead.

Rose Red gazed up into Black Bear’s large brown eyes and shuddered with a pent-up desire. I would not wish for any harm to come to you either, my dear bear. I shall miss our evenings together by the fireside.

Aye, Black Bear said, the more shall I. He bent down slightly and rested his massive paws on her shoulders. He gazed at her for a long moment.

An inexplicable sensation rose up in her belly; she half-hoped he’d bend his muzzle down and kiss her. She wondered if Black Bear felt the same way, then she realized how wrong it would be for her to kiss an animal of the forest; reluctantly, she dropped her eyes.

Black Bear lifted his paws from her shoulders and dropped down to all fours. Good-bye, Rose Red. Of the three of you, I shall miss you the most.

And I as well, Rose Red gasped.

Black Bear gave her one last mournful look, then turned and lumbered away down the garden path, not stopping, not looking back at her.

She watched him as he lifted his paw to unlatch the garden gate, then clicked the gate shut after him. He padded across the road and into the meadow, heading toward the woods. She watched until he disappeared into the forest. Emptiness filled her heart, a sense of loss; a loss she hadn’t felt in many years’ time, not since the day her father died.

TWO

Oh, please stop, Snow White panted.

Jacob Grimm let out a frustrated sigh, rolled off her belly and flung himself, facedown, into the hay. He pounded the floorboards with his fists. Rot it all.

For the past several weeks, every afternoon at four o’clock, Jacob Grimm had taken Snow White by the hand and led her to the haymow in his father’s milking barn. Ostensibly, Jacob Grimm went there to milk the cows, but in his afternoon trysts with Snow White, he meant to recover a different kind of buttermilk. Thus far, his efforts had borne no fruit, but he hoped he might press his suit a little harder today. He hoped his patience might finally be rewarded, and he’d nearly succeeded, when she suddenly called an end to their congress. Facedown in the straw, he spoke in a muffled voice. Dearheart, you are driving me mad with desire. Don’t you know we are behaving in a perfectly appropriate manner?

That may very well be true, she gasped, rising up onto her elbows, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I must do it.

You’re such a prude.

Am not.

He rolled over onto his back and let out a heartfelt sigh. Every afternoon he’d escorted her up the railing and into the deepest and most secret part of the haymow, where he tucked her away under piles of hay. He plied her with treats and entreaties, and he believed—at long last—his patience would finally be rewarded. God alone knew he’d worked hard enough at it. God alone knew he deserved it.

He ran his fingers through his thick mane of blond hair and blew out his breath. He gazed over longingly at the nubile maiden, lying prone beside him, at the blonde thatch of pubic hair he’d finally managed—after many supplicating kisses and protestations of undying love—to persuade her to reveal herself to him. And there, basking in the late afternoon’s sunbeam, gleamed her lovely, lustrous thatch, and below her thatch, tucked away between her supple legs, resided even more enchantments. He called it her hidden, long lost treasure. Long lost indeed, for he’d begun to believe he’d never sample any treasure from the cache. If only, oh, if only she’d share this treasure with him, he’d become the happiest of men.

She tempted him, she tempted him sorely.

And yet, the maiden did not yield, she did not give way. Ever resolute, she wanted the one thing in the world he dared not give her. A ring.

Snow White noticed him staring at her thatch and bestowed upon him a winning smile. You must first make a proper request to my mama. Until you do—

He cried out in frustration. How many times had they traversed this subject? You know my papa will never approve the match.

Well, then. I suppose that’s that, then. Snow White cried, deeply offended. Jacob Grimm watched with misery as she struggled to rise, yanking up the undergarments around her knees until they covered over the lovely thatch of blonde pubic hair. In a matter of moments, her lovely thatch disappeared, covered over by linen underpants. Her skirt, which he’d raked up over her hips, was thrust back down over her knees. If I’m not good enough for your father.

It’s not that, dearheart.

But it is, isn’t it. If that’s the case then, you shan’t mount me. She rose to her knees, pulling straw from her corset.

His cock throbbing, Jacob Grimm groaned deep in his throat. Snow White, do you know how long I’ve waited? He rose up onto his elbows and gazed directly into her clear blue eyes. Those piercing blue eyes. Do you know how patient I’ve been, how long I’ve waited?

As long as I, she shot back, struggling to her feet. She adjusted the stays to her corset, then flung one foot up onto a hay bale. At first he thought she might be offering him a stolen kiss from her secret lips, but no, he realized with a sigh of disappointment, she was merely adjusting the garter. Even so, he feasted his gaze upon her lovely, gleaming thatch. Goodness, how her blonde hair glowed. And ah, those pretty thighs, those lovely, creamy thighs. Jacob Grimm watched with increasing despair as she adjusted her garters, snapping them into place with an emphatic thuck, thuck sound.

Jacob Grimm bemoaned his fate. Who brought him this recalcitrant virgin? She meant to torture him, cut him to the quick. When all his other mates sampled freely the delights of their female companions, why didn’t he get to taste of her pink, soft flesh? Oh, he blamed his father. All Papa’s fault, really.

Father sneered and looked down upon on the widow who lived on the outskirts of town. He’d once courted her, shortly after her husband passed, but she rebuffed his advances and, scorned, he’d vowed never to visit the widow’s cottage again. And then, as the girls grew into blooming womanhood, Papa declared, unequivocally, that the two beautiful sisters, Snow White and Rose Red, occupied a lowly social position and were therefore unmarriageable.

Papa explained it all thoroughly to him one night at The Three Witches Pub, when father and son knocked back a pint or two before heading home after a long day’s work in the fields.

Oh, Jacob, you know what I’m getting at. Papa nudged Jacob roughly in the ribs, flashing him with a knowing leer. "You can still play with those girls. You can still roll around in the hay, have your fun. You can rut’em all you want, son. But don’t you dare bring one of those hoary sluts home to me, boy, and expect me to sanction the marriage."

Yes, Pa, Jacob muttered, sipping the foam off his beer.

Don’t test me son, I mean it. I’ll throw you out the door and disinherit you and leave my entire estate to your younger brother, I will.

I wouldn’t dream of it, Pa.

Be sure you don’t, Papa finished, mollified.

But, Papa, I must ask you. Why do you disapprove so of those girls? Everyone in the village thinks they’re the sweetest, kindest girls that ever did tread upon the earth.

One winter, a year ago now, I heard a rumor, Papa said darkly. And one night, I stole out to the widow’s cottage and took a look for myself.

What rumor?

Why, didn’t you hear any of the villagers gossiping like magpies? They were talking about it all winter long.

Jacob shook his head. No, Papa, you forget. I spent most of my time in the fields.

Aye, Papa agreed, I suppose you’re right, then. He wiped the foam off his mouth with the back of his hand and gazed at his beer stein. Well, from what I learned, one dark night, during one of the hardest winter storms in history, the widow and her daughters took in a stray.

Ach, Papa, how you can be so unkind? Isn’t that but an act of Christian charity, taking in the stray soul?

Papa’s bleary eyes focused on Jacob’s face. Boy, you don’t know what you’re nattering on about. I’m not talking about some homeless vagabond. The stray they took in was a massive black bear.

Jacob Grimm goggled at him. A bear? And it didn’t eat them alive?

Papa grinned owlishly from over the rim of his stein. Oh, it ate them, all right. The big brute ate those girls up and he rutted them all night long during that long, dark winter.

A bear? Jacob Grimm scoffed. Ach, Papa, for shame.

Ayuh, son, Papa said. He had his way with those little whores through the whole long winter, every night, every single night, as the flames danced and flared in the fire. He gazed at Jacob with a malevolent smile. I seen it with my own eyes, boy.

Seen what, Papa?

I went out there one night, and peered in through the casement window. He shook his head as if he could not believe the depravity of what he’d witnessed. Son, that bear was by the hearth, on all fours, rutting that little raven-haired bitch Rose Red.

Snow White wasn’t there, was she, Papa?

Are you daft, boy? Papa roared. She was on her knees behind the bear, licking his furry balls.

Oh, Papa, that can’t be true. Not my Snow White.

I’m afraid so, lad, Papa said, gesturing to the barkeep for another stein. Those girls are as wicked as the day is old. Mark my word, I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if the lot of them turn into witches.

Jacob Grimm clutched his head and groaned.

If they’re willing to fornicate with wild animals— Papa muttered ominously.

Oh, Papa, please, please. Stop, Papa, please.

Oh, rut’em all you want, Papa said. But don’t you dare marry any one of ‘em.

Yes, Papa, Jacob said meekly.

Ah, but it proved hard, much harder than he expected, to honor his father’s demands. The flesh of many a fine fruit had passed across Jacob’s lips, and of his tongue, many the nectar of a budding pear slipped down his throat. He ate of ripe peaches, bursting-at-the seams nectarines, plum tomatoes, and luscious melons. No matter the shape, no matter the size, he devoured it all with a lusty hunger. And yet his appetite grew. No longer content to slake his thirst with the rotund, earthy lasses who toiled in the grand manors as cooks and scullery maids, no, he grew refined in his tastes and appetites. The common girls were lovely girls, of course, in their way, all flesh and bosoms and wide-open lips, but after a time, he wearied of their simple-minded brains, their vulgarity.

No, after a time, his taste for these repasts grew more delicate, more refined. Abandoning the heat and humidity of the summer kitchen, he charged up the stairs, searching for choicer cuts of meat. He rolled around in the luxurious beds with the hoity-toity upstairs maids, who served only to whet his hunger the more he feasted upon these juicy morsels of flesh.

And his toils were richly rewarded. Sarah, the fulsome cook at the neighbor’s manor, bore the evidence of his battering ram, for she swelled large with child. Soon, he thought with a dry smile, another one of his bastards would be scampering across the hen-yard, tormenting the chickens.

Yet over the past several months, as his taste grew more affected, more refined, he reached the point where he found even the upstairs maids not to his liking. He preferred a higher class of young woman. A young woman, to be exact, who looked and smelled and filled her corset just like the demure and lovely Snow White.

He gazed down forlornly at his throbbing erection and growled.

It’s not my fault, Snow White pouted, dropping to her knees and searching for her little bag. She pulled it out from under a bale of hay and unlaced the drawstring. She found a brush and combed out her golden hair. She pulled it back into a long, loose braid. Her hair, her beautiful hair, gleamed in the late-afternoon sunlight. She gazed defiantly at him. It’s your father who won’t allow it.

She was right, of course.

That does nothing for my member, Snow White.

The girl gazed wistfully at the place where the muslin fabric strained to contain his cock.

Such a shame, she purred, kneeling down on the straw and brushing her fingers lightly across his bulging manhood.

Jacob swooned. Woman. Don’t do that.

She flashed him an innocent smile. Don’t do what? This? She expertly reached her fingers through the opening in his breaches, unbuttoning him with an ease that simply amazed him, and withdrew his throbbing cock. Its pulsing heat radiated warmth in the girl’s cool hand.

God almighty, he groaned.

How lovely. She smiled at his cock with the air of one inspecting a strand of pearls, as opposed to a young man’s glowing manhood. Her fingers curved around the shaft and she squeezed gently.

Oooooh. Jacob’s eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Lie back down, my sweet, Snow White whispered, and let’s talk about your papa.

Let’s not. And I swear I’ll marry you.

Don’t make promises, Snow White whispered with a repressive smile, you have no intention of keeping.

She hoisted up her petticoats and straddled him, her bent knees resting on either side of his thighs. She bent down over him, her pink tongue darting up and down the length of his shaft. Jacob moaned as she did this. He reached up and ran his fingers through her silky blonde hair. She continued licking him in this fashion for a few more moments, then popped the nubby tip of his cock into her mouth, wiggling her tongue and lips together around the nub. She bobbed up and down on his shaft, increasing, then releasing the pressure of her jaws around his member; bobbing, bobbing, drawing him up, filling him, causing him to lose all hope and reason. She then opened her lips wide and swallowed up his cock, right down to the balls. She bobbed up and down on his shaft, her artful, talented tongue massaging and circling the full sheath as she rubbed his cock from top to bottom. She pressed her lips tighter, then looser, then tighter again, as Jacob Grimm groaned gutturally in his throat.

His cock throbbed as he drew close to his crisis. She increased her efforts, bobbing up and down, squeezing tighter on his shaft, until finally he burst forth his seed in an explosive torrent of cum. A frothy, creamy cum filled her mouth and she sat back on her haunches, swallowing it all down with a big naughty smile on her face.

Jacob watched through half-hooded