Skin white as snow, bottom red as blood

Once upon a time in a small village at the edge of a large forest, there lived a little girl with her father. Eirwen was her name and she was the most beautiful little girl you’d ever seen: with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair black as ebony wood.
Eirwen’s father was a cabinet-maker. He made the most beautiful furniture with the wood provided by the village’s lumberjacks. Wood was the small village’s main export and it did not earn them much income. The cabinet-maker’s intricately carved work however sold for high prices in the city. Eirwen’s father was by far the richest and – thanks to his generosity – most beloved man in the village.
This wasn’t enough to providee for a happy life for Eirwen however. She’d lived the first years of her life without a mother – who’d died in childbirth – and when she was a young woman, she lost her father as well.
When her father died, Eirwen remained at her father’s home, not alone but with her step-mother named Brisen, the woman her father had married after her mother’s death.
As his widow, Brisen had claimed all of her father’s belongings, all the wealth he had saved which would’ve provided both women a comfortable, healthy life. Though she did not let the young woman enjoy her father’s wealth. Eirwen was made to work, to clean and scrub and cook, while her step-mother did nothing but stare in the mirror and admire her own beauty.
She was a beautiful woman, Brisen, the most beautiful in the village, maybe even in all the land. Perhaps it was her beauty that had blinded Eirwen’s father from the cold disregard with which she had always treated his daughter.
She could spend hours a day in front of her mirror. It was an expensive piece that could only be paid for with her husband’s wealth. It was the only real mirror in the village, others had to make do with copper pots or plates.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in the land is fairest of all?” She would whisper to it. The mirror’s response of course was her own reflection.

Eirwen grew up and became ever more beautiful. The young men of the village all looked when she passed them by, even in the ragged clothing her step-mother provided her with.
Yet she was not allowed to date or hang out with any of them for Brisen knew that if Eirwen were to get married, she’d be entitled to a large portion of her father’s wealth.
On the girl’s twentieth naming day, Eirwen’s mother organized a large party at their house. This event was not for her daughter however, it was for herself. No mention of Eirwen’s important day was made in the invitations and whenever it came up in conversation, Brisen quickly changed the subject to herself.
The reason for the party was a rumor that had reached her step-mother’s ears a few days earlier. It was a rumor about an old customer of her dead husband, a rich man from the city who often visited the village and bought up the old, often unfinished work of Eirwen’s father.
Brisen knew the man well and had often enjoyed his wealth and more, for he often spent the night at their home, though they had no bedroom to spare.
The rumor said that this rich man was looking for a wife and had set his eyes on the most beautiful woman in the land. Brisen was ecstatic by this news. She’d shared his bed before and would happily do so every night if it meant she’d move to the city and be even richer than she was now.
So you see, the party had nothing to do with Eirwen’s naming day, it just coincided with the day on which this man had planned another visit to their small village.
The whole town had been invited to see what Brisen hoped would be his proposal. Eirwen’s home was full of people and she was tasked with providing them all drink and food and cleaning up after them.
The villagers of course were always friendly towards the young woman. The men commiserated with her that her mother would set her to work on her naming day and the women helped her out however they could.
The real disaster of Brisen’s party however was not the obvious kindness the villagers showed her daughter, it was what happened when the guest of honor arrived.
The old man exuded wealth. The villager’s feast-day clothing looked like rags compared to what he wore. His fingers were covered in rings of gold and silver, and several necklaces hung around his fat neck.
Brisen, who was seated at the head of the table, urged him to come sit next to her, but the man had eyes only for her step-daughter, dressed in rags and filling cups with wine.
He approached her immediately, eager and perhaps slightly nervous as well and knelt at her feet. “Eirwen.” He said. “Would you be my wife?”
The room became silent as death. All eyes turned to the young woman, to her mother and back to her.
Brisen’s face turned white from shock, but she was unable to speak.
“I am sorry.” Eirwen replied. “I hardly know you and you are more than twice my age. I do not wish to marry you.”
The man’s face grew red in embarrassment. “But I am rich, you’d live a wealthy, comfortable life in the city with me…”
Eirwen shook her head, but before she could reply that she did not care for his riches, her step-mother jumped up. “Enough!” She screamed. “Everyone get out! This party is over!”

This was a preview for a new idea I’m trying out, which is classic fairy-tales reimagined with spankings/bdsm scenes. These will have influences from different versions of the story (such as the most well-known Disney versions), but will be mostly based on the original version, in this case the tales of the brothers Grimm.

If you are a patron and read the full version, please let me know in the comments whether you liked the story and which classic fairy tale you might want to see reimagined next.