Lisa Valdez's The Tower
by Lisa Valdez
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Trapped in a tower by a witch who claims to be her mother, Rapunzel has led a lonely life. Now, grown into a young woman, she is plagued by desires she has no idea how to fulfill. But everything changes when a handsome prince climbs through her tower window and feeds the hunger she had thought insatiable.

On a quest for a Golden Chalice, Prince Rodrigo is convinced Rapunzel is there to distract him from finding the Chalice. He thinks to use her for his pleasure, take what he has come for, and be on his way. But when Rapunzel proves to be more than an erotic diversion, Rodrigo must face the realities of her captivity by a witch who is definitely not her mother.



For youth reclaimed and eternal life,
Find the Golden Chalice-
Wait until the time's full ripe,
Then lance the Golden Chalice-
With Silver, lance the Golden Chalice.

Then bathe in the blood and fill up the cup,
Fill up the cup,
With the milk of life, fill up the cup till the new moon's up.

Follow the steps-leave out none.
Then when all is said and done,
Youth reclaimed shall be won.
Yes, when all is said and done,
Life eternal shall be won.

Find the Golden Chalice-
With Silver, lance the Golden Chalice.





Once upon a time, in a tall tower surrounded by a deep and wild wood, there lived a beautiful young woman. She had long, golden hair that fell in coils across the floor, and her name was Rapunzel...

Lisa Valdez's The Tower

The hunger came almost every day now.

Squirming in her chair, Rapunzel pressed her hand between her legs.

When first she'd felt the hunger, years ago, it had only risen in her occasionally. She'd enjoyed the sensations it aroused, and the delicious relief brought by her own hand. But over time, it had come more frequently, and it had grown more powerful and insistent. At first, she had welcomed its growing strength for the hunger broke the desperate monotony of her existence. And whilst she indulged it, her loneliness was briefly forgotten.

But now, no matter what she did to assuage it, she was left feeling empty and unsatisfied-and lonelier than ever. What had once been a welcome respite from isolation had, somehow, become a torturous reminder. And nothing-not her loom or psaltery-worked to distract her when the hunger gnawed at her gut and ached between her legs.

As it did now, in the middle of the afternoon and not long after her mother had left.

Rapunzel pressed her hands tighter as her hips tilted up. Even the tips of her breasts tingled for her touch. "Why must I be so tormented?" she gasped.

Knowing she had no choice, she leaned against the chair-back, pulled up her gown and braced her heels wide on the edge of the seat. The very act of opening her legs made her quiver, and beneath the patch of blond curls her flesh was wet.

Biting her lip, she went to work-the fingers of one hand rubbing over the little pebble that seemed at the head of her torment, the fingers of the other touching the small weeping hole that hid between her folds. For what it wept, she did not know. She always felt compelled to push all her fingers inside, but she knew she couldn't. Only the tip of one finger fit.

Pressing it in, she gasped and rubbed the pebble harder and faster. Her muscles tightened, her hips thrust back and forth. It felt good, yet it wasn't enough. She needed more. More! Faster and harder she rubbed. She bucked her hips. She pressed her other fingers against the wet opening. But, still, it wasn't enough.

Not enough! Her fingers became a blur. She squeezed her eyes shut. Not enough!

An anguished cry of frustration tore from her as she kicked out her legs, leapt from the chair, and hurled her drinking cup across the large room where it clanged upon the stone floor. Slamming her fists on the table, she grabbed her hairbrush and drew back her hand-

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!"

Choking back a gasp, Rapunzel whirled to face the window. Lord, not now! Why had her mother returned? Had she forgotten her shawl? Did she somehow know that something was wrong with her daughter-that some inexplicable compulsion plagued her?

"I-I'm coming!" she called. Putting down her brush, she rushed to the pitcher and basin beside her bed. Spilling some water in, she quickly cooled her face with a few splashes.

Lisa Valdez's The Tower

Her mother's deep-voiced call came again. "Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!"

Pressing a cloth to her wet cheeks, Rapunzel ran to the windowsill. It was never good to keep her mother waiting for it made her angry and suspicious, but Rapunzel didn't want her to know about the hunger. Her mother was very protective of her, and while Rapunzel told her practically everything, this…well, this she'd felt compelled to keep entirely to herself.

She tossed aside the cloth. "Just a moment more," she called.

Releasing the thick coils of braid that were held at her waist in long loops, she secured a portion to the great brass hook on the sill. Then she released the yards of braid so that her mother could climb up.

As she waited, she drew deep breaths and tested the temperature of her brow and cheeks with the back of her hand. She still ached between her legs and her thighs were wet, but she must not show her distress.

Trying to force her face into placid lines, she waited nervously to receive her mother.

Only it wasn't her mother's heavy, black-clad leg that swung over the sill. It was a muscular leg in cross-garters and green hose. And it wasn't her mother's gnarled hand that followed. It was a smooth, long-fingered hand.

Fear pouring through her, Rapunzel fell back a step and her mouth dropped open.

It wasn't her mother who climbed into her tower room.

It was a man!

* * *

She was beautiful-and frightened.

Her blue eyes were wide with both shock and fear. Her lips trembled. And as he stared at her, she drew a small dagger from the sheath at her belt. It was a belt of golden hair, braided over her shoulder and slung low about her hips. From there, it swagged to a hook by the window; and from the hook fell the rope-like length that still hung in his grip.

Prince Rodrigo stood for a moment more on the wide sill, surveying the spacious, high-vaulted chamber whilst he slowly looped up the rope of her hair that he'd climbed. He didn't see the Golden Chalice, but he'd expected it to be hidden. The tower-room was well enough appointed. Some old tapestries hung on the walls, furs lay on the floor before a giant hearth, and there was furniture to sit, eat and sleep upon.

He slid his eyes back to her. And fuck upon.

His cock pulsed with anticipation. After weeks of watching, it was just as he'd suspected: when the hag was gone, the longhaired lovely was alone. And she was, oh, so lovely. Her pale yellow gown fit her torso like a glove. Long sleeves came to points over her hands, a wide neckline scooped low, and a fitted bodice hugged full breasts, a narrow waist and slim hips before falling into a skirt of deep folds that puddled behind her. And then there was her glorious golden hair.

His blood rushed hot in his veins. He would have her.

Lisa Valdez's The Tower

For though her purpose was surely to lure him from his quest, the hag could not have known that the one who would breech the tower would be immune to the wiles of a beautiful, distressed maiden-immune to the distractions of love.

He almost scoffed aloud. He was not the romantic quest knight of lore. And after three years of scouring the nine kingdoms and tracking down every obscure clue to this tower, he would not be deterred from his quest in the final days-not by anything or anyone-least of all by a beautiful, flush-faced bit of cunt.

He watched the lovely quiver of her moist lower lip and felt a familiar, answering quiver in his sac.

Yes, he would fuck her as he pleased, find the Chalice, and then be on his way. For war was looming and time was of the essence.

He leapt down from the sill and she leapt back, raising her dagger higher. He might have smiled when she startled herself by bumping into the large loom that was behind her, but he didn't appreciate being drawn upon even if the blade was small.

So, ignoring her, he moved to the hook and took his time unwinding the twists of braid. Once free, he looped the coils with the rest, slid them onto his arm, and then leaned back on the wide sill. Beneath his tunic, he felt his cock swelling and thrusting out from the opening of his braies as he studied her. She was pressed against the loom and only a little more than a couple sword-lengths separated them. But she looked nervously at the remaining portion of her braid that stretched between them.

"You could always cut it," he offered.

Lifting her eyes back to his, she looked horrified and shook her head. "I cannot-I'll die if I do!"

Really? He could tell she believed it. "Well," grasping the length, he casually turned a coil of it around his hand, "it would be pointless anyway. Where would you go that I could not catch you?" And with that he pulled her a step closer.

Still holding up the dagger, she gasped and tried to pull back. "You-you must leave now," she said with bravado, and pointed the blade directly at him.

Her threats were ridiculous. Perhaps if she understood his intent…

Pushing away from the sill, he stood, displaying his own weapon. Free of the confines of his undergarment and at full stand, it tented his tunic beneath his belt to an extreme degree, dwarfing her steel.

She stared at it and, for just a moment, something flickered in her eyes that was not fear. Interest? No, more than interest-fascination. But then she blinked and the fear returned, accompanied now by a healthy dose of confusion.

Rodrigo sighed. Clearly, he was going to have to play out the whole gallant-knight-seduced-by-innocent-maiden farce. "What were you saying?" he asked.

She raised her gaze, fearful and distressed, back to his. "I-I was saying that you must leave."

"No." Rodrigo shook his head and, tugging her after him, crossed casually to the hearth. He examined the tankards and cups that decorated the heavy mantel before turning back to her. "I'm staying."

She still held the damned dagger, and her other hand was pulling back on the length of braid that separated them.

Rodrigo frowned. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Yes, I know. You're a man!"

She said the word as if it were something vile.

"That is what I am, not who I am." Rodrigo indicated the crossed silver lances emblazoned large on his green tunic. But, apparently, his coat of arms meant nothing to her. "I am Prince Rodrigo, son and heir to the Golden Lance, King Leo, ruler of all the lands by the southern sea."

Her eyes had widened and it seemed all the blood drained from her face. Then she turned into a wild thing, twisting, turning and pulling frantically upon her braid.

Lisa Valdez's The Tower

Holding it firmly, Rodrigo regarded her with surprise. Though he had a reputation for conquest, both on the battlefield and in the bedchamber, most ladies were eager to open their legs for him-eager to have their turn at breaking the curse he'd been born under, to never father a child. Or, thanks to the curse, eager to fuck without the worry of pregnancy. And whilst he'd faced a few hesitant maids as well-virgins foisted upon him by power-hungry fathers or mothers-he always won them in the end, and made sure to give them a few good rides before he sent them packing.

But this he'd never seen.

Weeping and writhing, she struggled to free her braid from his grip. Her yellow gown twisted and swung. However, her efforts barely moved him.

With a sob, she finally stilled. Then she looked at her blade, which she'd somehow managed to keep hold of. He watched her gaze shift from the shiny steel to her hair.

She wouldn't…

A look of fatal resignation filled her wet blue eyes.

He tensed.

She raised her gaze to his. Her arm lifted.

"No!" Rodrigo roared. Setting his feet, he yanked her toward him with such force that she practically flew into his arms. Twisting the dagger from her hand, he spun around and, pinning her to the wall beside the hearth, slammed her wrists over her head. The scent of honeysuckle assailed him, but it did nothing to calm his anger. "What's the matter with you?" he barked, his face only inches from hers. "I don't know what's in my name that inspires you to suicide, but I assure you that end is unnecessary!" By the sword! He didn't know if the cutting of her hair would truly curse her with death, but he wasn't taking any chances. He stared into her wide, terror-filled eyes. "I want to fuck you, not kill you," he snapped.

She held his gaze. "You don't want to kill me?" Her voice was a quavering whisper.

"Why in hell would I want to kill you?"

"Because you're a prince," she shuddered against him, "the monster of men."

"The monster of men?"

"Yes," she breathed. "You tear the hearts from the breasts of women, whilst impaling them upon a pike that splits their bodies and steals their souls."

Rodrigo narrowed his eyes. "Who told you this?"

"My mother."

Your mother? Rodrigo drew back. "You don't mean the black-haired crone who comes and goes from here?"

She nodded.

Rodrigo despised lies-and liars. How many lies had the hag told her? And who was her real mother?

He studied her fair features for a moment. Of course, it was possible she was the liar. But it didn't seem anything was hidden in her deep blue eyes, which were watching him so carefully. As his prick pulsed, he concluded that it didn't matter. What mattered was that he was rock hard for her.

Her hips twitched against him and a flush rose in her cheeks. "If you're not going to kill me," she said softly, "will you please release me?"

Rodrigo watched the rapid rise and fall of her breasts against her low bodice. Even her chest was suffused with a blush. "Well, I don't know," he murmured. "Do you promise not to kill yourself?"

She looked up at him through her lashes. "Yes."

"Mmmm, then I'll consider your request." He breathed in the honeysuckle scent of her hair and thrust his cock against her pelvis.

She gasped. "Please!"

"Ah, just the word I like to hear." He thrust against her again.

She squirmed. "But you said you would let me go."

Lisa Valdez's The Tower

"No. I said I would consider letting you go." He thrust again, luxuriating in the pressure on his cock and the short gasps escaping her lips.

She mewled and her fingers curved tightly over his that were still pinning her hands. "Then when will you consider it?"

Rodrigo paused and stared into her wonderfully distraught and flushed face. "Since you insist, I'll consider it now." He almost smiled, as she actually seemed to wait tensely. She really was exceptional-though he couldn't say precisely why. Of course, she was exceptionally beautiful and exceptionally fuckable. But there was something more… Letting her go was out of the question. "I've considered it, and the answer is no."

Her brow creased deeply and she began to shake. "But-but why?"

Why, indeed?

Rodrigo pressed his body full against her and spoke by her trembling mouth. "Because, my beautiful Rapunzel, it is time for us to fuck."


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