Cinderella retold

[SophieAnn2]

- please leave me your honest feedback... anything you give will encourage me to write many more. This story is only the beginning. xx

CHAPTER ONE

Hello. My name is Arabella, and this is my story.

You may have heard the tales of Cinderella and how we deprived her of her liberties until Prince Charming came along and stole her away from our bitterness. I know not whether you believe in fairies, and quite frankly I do not care at this moment, but the story goes it was her who transformed Cinders from a simpleton into a beautiful queen in just a matter of seconds with a pumpkin stolen from our house. Although there are many variations, I am here now to settle the matter once and for all.

First and foremost we (that is my two sisters and I) were not ugly. Overdressed, perhaps slightly, but we cared a great deal about our looks. Once things went wrong with Cinderella she began spreading rumours around the town we were ugly – it is strange how people’s perceptions can change once whispers start flying. It was a small town and stories spread fast.

Back in those days, work was difficult to find. My sisters and I took pity on poor Cinderella when she, as a poor and young 21 year old came knocking at our door. I remember that day so well. Her hair was in tatters, and her clothes hugged around her frail body showing badly kept skin here and there. Her pale and spotty face was blotched and although she had been trying to stand with pride her sheer lack of energy meant she had to lean against the wall just for support.

Whilst we cannot look after everyone in the town her story was one that touched us all deeply. Three months back, her Master had been forced to throw her out due to debt arrears. Taxes back then were alarmingly steep, another reason why my sisters and I hate the royalty so much. “Hated?” I hear you cry? Yes, the Prince would later claim we were all falling over our feet to get him! Hah! Another lie! Loosely based on a life many years back.

We were not poor. The reason for this is that from time to time my sisters and I would perform at some of the clubs, and the money was good. Often we would come back with money tucked into our underwear from the paying punters: mostly men, but a few women as well when they thought their counterparts weren’t looking! Seeing this poor woman on our doorstep, we took pity on her, wanted to dress her up, and glamorise her.

You see, there wasn’t any Fairy Godmother. It was us, using our experiences to help another make the best of herself. Maybe even one day she would find a club and start working. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but it sure beats being a maid and allows for a more luxurious life. Inviting her in, we fed and buttered her up. Oh yah, later she complained to the prince that only he could have done such things and we abused her. Maybe that was her guilt.

I suppose looking back on things now, we might have hurried the process on a little more rapidly than would have been best, but then its always easy to talk after the event.

At first everything was wonderful. Slowly Cinderella regained her looks and confidence. But she seemed ever so increasingly unhappy and slumped to a constant depression where the only familiarity she knew was the kitchen floor, feeling uncomfortable and unfulfilled.

One of our biggest secrets involve our family’s relationship. At a time when sex was neither talked about nor discussed, aside from the clubs where we could go through the motions of acting out the various fantasies, my sister’s and I would indulge. I remember the first occasion as though it were yesterday.

Mum and Dad were frequently out. Dad was involved in some physical labour. Indeed, we saw very little of him since he would often come back filthy and tired and go straight to sleep until an early start the next morning. Mum was also really too busy to notice us. She had part time work as a maid, and spent the rest of the time providing for us and clearing up the trails of filth dad left behind him.

My sisters and I never got schooling. Mum didn’t believe in it anyway, and said the best we could hope for was maid work and so set us up helping with various tasks around the house. She also spent a great deal of time telling us how to make the best physical use of ourselves in terms of appearance to attract the right man with the right job. She even joked about how we might even attract Prince Charming himself and said if that were the case we would enjoy everything money could buy. She didn’t understand all we wanted was to be loved.

Rumours spread throughout the town mum and Prince Charming actually had secret affairs. Mum has denied this until her dying day, although it might go some way to explaining his hostility towards us who were considered ‘in the way’ and encouraging the townsfolk to think of us as ugly.

The act of forbidden love is a compelling one. Prince Charming was of course well off limits but that didn’t stop us playing with the ideas initially offset by mum’s constant teases. Back in those days we had no reason to dislike him with the severity of how we do now: of course that was before the lies.

It started, quite innocently one day whilst mum was out. Pricilla, my elder sister had been through our dressing up clothes and had come downstairs with a white blouse and black trousers. Esmeralda, my younger sister, although only younger by 18 or so months jumped up and down with giggles, saying “Ooooo it’s Prince Charming”, her long brown curls bouncing upon her shoulders.

I went towards Pricilla, my hand teasingly on her hip. “May I have the next dance.” I could feel the twinkle in my eye.

My sister, just an inch or so taller than me replied: “Why of course. I’d be so delighted.” And so the two of us twirled around the room. Dancing was well known to us - mum had taught us all the moves well through the necessity to make the best possible outcome for our waiting man.

Our arms knotted around each other as we twirled, suddenly becoming lost to the invisible music. Esmeralda gave an excited giggle and proceeded humming a well known classical piece we had heard several times at various balls we had attended. I am not going to spoil the flavour of the moment getting too lost in the descriptions of the endless boredom we had to face, for here we were the centre of everyone’s attention, albeit only in fantasy.

The piece finished and suddenly Esmeralda began on a slow piece. Pricilla and I changed our tempo accordingly, even almost automatically as she took the lead and I followed. Only towards the end did I feel a fluttering from within and turn my head upwards to plant the kiss softly upon her lips. And there we held as a single pose: two beings magically and beautifully entranced. Breaking away from the kiss, I looked upon her eyes, resting my hand upon her hip, succumbing to the feelings of the moment. Esmeralda, still thinking this was a game, broke her song to burst into fits of squeals at which point reality kicked and we separated.

For many years this became our game. One of us would dress as Prince Charming whilst the other would take the pleasure of dance and the end result would always be a kiss. Not only did this enable us to improve and practice our dancing techniques (something we have relied upon very heavily thereafter albeit in a different way to how mum intended) but it gave us a new focus, joy, way of being together and expressing the love that looking back was so badly missed in our lives.

Things took a new turn as I neared my seventeenth birthday. This time it was me the one coming downstairs since I had meant to be teasing the other two with my outfit of Prince Charming. However, what I saw caught me by complete surprise and even now sends excited shivers down my spine just thinking of it.

What caught my attention first were the piles of rags discarded on the floor. Seems a strange thing to notice given what else was going on, but my amazement had been that I knew the area had been clear shortly before mum had left for work which was only an hour or so previous. As my eyes slowly focused so I had gasped in horror: these were our special ball gowns mum had given us some time ago.

The top part of the dress which had once been velvety blue sleeves, now lay in uneven strips, haphazardly upon the floor. The bottom part of the dress lay torn and strewn across the floor a few inches away but at a crooked angle. One half of the bottom section was completely ripped.

I was about to scan the room for the other garment, when my eyes focused upon the movement in front. I confess to being somewhat overwhelmed. For there lay two naked bodies entwined, wrapped around each other, as though within another world. I had, of course, seen my sisters’ bodies naked hundreds of times between then and now – especially the times mum used to get us ready to go to the dreaded balls in what she deemed best wear – but this was somehow so different. So wrong… and yet, compelling.

The confusion between the desire and oughts had me fixated upon the movement of the two in front. Fingers, tongues, rolling and moaning, squealed delight. Heck, when had my younger sister ever learned to move like that? Fascinated, I stood transfixed, almost tempted to test my own growing wetness in my lower regions. With a gasp and sigh, they turned their naked bodies towards my position, and froze.

Everything paused: it was as if time itself had stopped. I suddenly became aware of my mouth hanging open and shut it again, afraid that it might somehow make the situation even worse.

“Arabella,” Esmeralda stammered. Now halted, there was obvious perspiration all over her body.

Pricilla stared.

Not knowing what else to do, I suddenly found movement in my body, walked over to the clothes.

“What’s mum going to say when she finds out what you’ve done,” I gasped, picking up one of the discarded fragments.

Pricilla was on me like a flash. I could feel her hands against my shoulders, pushing me back upon the floor, staring into my eyes. There was a focus and determination in hers I had not seen before, even one of desperation. I guessed this wasn’t the first time they had been doing something quite like this, although maybe not so extreme.

“You are not going to tell,” she said firmly.

She placed her weight upon my arms. I struggled to get up.

Suddenly I felt Esmeralda on my feet. I was held firm.

“Let go,” I hissed struggling to get up.

“Not until you promise,” Pricilla hissed back. Ignoring my struggles she reached for my blouse and pulled it open with such force the buttons flew, landing with a soft thud somewhere in the room.

I wanted to cover my breasts, to prevent the prying eyes against my naked chest.
A ripping sound from below, suddenly drew my attention to what was left of my trousers.

“My God,” I thought. “What were my two sisters going to do to me? I’d never seen them like this before!”

I was now naked like the others, and in that moment felt very vulnerable. At that moment, Esmeralda took it upon herself to tickle the souls of my feet. Being sensitive I burst into fits of giggles, my hands fending off Pricilla and kicking out more unsuccessfully against Esmeralda. As I squealed, trying to catch my breath, I felt a small trickle of urine line the floor. I knew I was in trouble.

“I give, I give!” I squealed. Waving my hands about, I suddenly found Esmeralda’s back and pulled her upon me, bringing her down, sliding my knee between her thighs. Passion overcame: I wanted her so much at that moment, the oughts and shoulds far from my mind. I kinda lost track from that moment on, but I remember we were rolling around for quite a while after, and I felt new sensations from all over my body and growing sensations and passions. And after, I remember also holding my sisters close, in a new way full of love, wonder, delight and happiness. I knew from that moment on we’d never be the same again.

-

As it happened, mum never did find out. We made a good job of cleaning the mess and scrubbing the floor from where I peed. As for the ball gowns we shredded them properly, and Pricilla (being the eldest) disposed of the evidence and refused to say where she had dumped it. As luck would have it the next ball we were presented with new gowns and our old ones were never spoken. Amazingly, mum remained oblivious to what had happened that day and thus no idea of how it changed our lives from that day forth.

(c) Sophie 21st June 2013

[iceman713]

Wow, just wow. I have read a lot of different kinds of Cinderella stories posted online, but this is by far the best i have read. Good job and keep up the good work.

[Anasub]

I'm interested to read more of this, especially about what really happened with cinderella.

[SophieAnn2]

Thank you, Anasub and Iceman. Your comments mean a great deal to me. I am already half way through the second chapter, and looking forward to sharing with you

Hugs
Soph
xx

[SophieAnn2]

Chapter TWO

After the first few months of her arrival, Cinderella spent most of the time in the kitchen, miserable. The idea of make-up we had generously encouraged had long since worn off, and the bottles were abandoned around the kitchen where she spent most of her time. Whilst having Cinderella downstairs gave the three of us easier times away from both her and mum’s prying eyes, we became worried for her. As always, it was Pricilla who took action since being the eldest believed it was her duty to take lead and went to talk to Cinderella about what was causing her to be so depressed.

Whilst none of us were with her at the time, Pricilla later relayed the entire conversation to us in full. Having been trained as a servant, Cinderella believed it was her duty to serve; sudden elevation to an equal had felt unsettling and unfulfilling. She had been unable to place her finger as to why this would cause her that much unhappiness, only without a goal her life seemed to lack meaning.

At the time of this conversation, Cinderella had placed herself in the darkest corner of the kitchen, bringing her knees up to her chin. Her beautiful clothes we had provided lay discarded to one side, abandoned and she was attired only in her lacy underwear, knees to her chin, slowly rocking back and forth as if trying to create movement from the emptiness around her.
True to form, Pricilla stayed focused to facts, leaving Esmeralda and I to talk over the suggestions.

“She can’t leave,” Pricilla was saying mainly to Esmeralda. “For one thing she has nowhere to go, and being so easy to take advantage of she would be taken in no time.”

“Well it isn’t our problem,” Esmeralda replied in earnest. “I mean if it worked out… she could have helped out and everything, but she can’t even pick up a broom”

I smiled towards Esmeralda and placed a hand lovingly on her thigh. Such touches were now common to us and caused no surprise. “You’re always so emotional,” I protested. “And in a rush to get things done.”

“And you’re always so rational,” she retorted. “Things were perfect before she came along.

I shook my head sadly. There was truth to this thought. Back then we had the house to ourselves and were managing the bills pretty well in spite of the palace’s high taxes. “But we can’t throw her out now,” I protested. “What will happen to her if we do?”

“What will happen to us if we don’t,” Esmeralda retorted.

“She has to tow the line,” Pricilla decided. “She wants to stay in the kitchen, fine, she says that gives her purpose. We can’t have her staying like this – she’s a drain on all of us, and a drain especially on you, Esmeralda dear. So we’ll give her kitchen tasks. If she wants to be a servant, then we’ll give her instructions and except her to carry them out.”

I had expected Esmeralda to argue. But suddenly her eyes lit up and clapped her hands in delight. “Ooooo could we, could we,” she squealed.

I leaned over and kissed her: she was always so adorable when she did that. “She must agree to our terms though,” I added thinking it through.

Pricilla’s eyes opened wide with thought, and then slowly the corners of her mouth turned into a charming smile. “Sure, why not, we’re in it this far, why not make the most of what we have?”

“Should we ask her or make the list first,” I wondered.

“Make the list, make the list,” Esmeralda pleaded.

Pricilla let out a soft laugh. “Why not? Let’s give it a go.” She pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled Cinderella’s name on top. Not everyone in the town could write of course, but in spite of our lack of schooling, mum had taught us the basics well.

“How about always keeping her in the kitchen,” Esmeralda suggested. “She seems to like it there.”

“It would give her purpose too,” I agreed.

Pricilla nodded, writing it down.

I thought about the town. Cinderella didn’t often travel out and I knew it could get dangerous at night. “I think she shouldn’t be out after midnight,” I suggested helpfully.

Pricilla nodded and it was added, and the conversation continued. In the end our list went as follows:

Rules for Cinderella

1. Unless permitted, Cinderella is not to leave the kitchen under any circumstances

2. Cinderella must never EVER be out later than midnight

3. Cinderella’s tasks must be geared towards her skills: that of cleaning. She must ensure the kitchen floor is never dirty and cups and saucers are carefully put away

4. Cinderella must always wash our clothes, as needed.

5. Cinderella must always dress down from what we are wearing so she may never feel equal. For example, if we come down in underwear to have our clothes washed, she must be naked.

6. Cinderella’s task is to please us. If we are unpleased then she has not fulfilled her purpose.

The three of us spent a great deal of time going over the sheet and making small alterations, but I’ll spare the boring details and say this was the final copy. Essentially, if Cinderella was unhappy because her training in making others happy could not be fulfilled then our new guidelines gave her purpose and pleasure.

Once more it was Pricilla who took it upon herself to present the final copy to Cinderella reporting back to us in great detail of what took place. Cinderella had been, as usual, sitting in her underclothes propped up by the sink in the kitchen, her knees to her chin continuing to rock back and forth.

We had had some discussion upon what Pricilla should wear to have this conversation with Cinderella. Since we wanted to denounce any notion of equality, it was felt we should always present ourselves more fully, more dressy than Cinderella, especially since that was within the rules. Because of mum’s love of balls and our willingness to please her we had many gowns which to choose. Pricilla selected a light blue dress, the frills hanging down to her ankles. I had to admit, she was ravishing in this attire.

Cinderella had been amazed when Pricilla presented herself as such. Until this moment we had had been careful to dress down for fear of overwhelming her or making her feel out of place. Refusing to kneel to get to her level, Pricilla would appear both authoritative and powerful. Beautiful too. (oops, I had already said that!)

Maybe what carried more in Cinderella’s expression in that moment, aside from sheer shock, was a moment of pleasure. A moment of inevitability, an exciting yet familiar degradation appeasing to her inner appetite. An inner calling, about to be answered stemming from a place so deep within her, where questions from her physical desires that hadn’t been filled for so long was about to be answered. Maybe that is also why she was shaking slightly with those wide eyes of hers?

Pricilla, as direct as ever, gave forth our chosen rules. As she read out each one, she described an aroma surfacing from Cinderella as though her body was responding even before the confirmed nod of each point. Once finished, Cinderella sat up straight, her constant rocking ceasing. She had finally found her place, although there were tears in her eyes. She spoke, properly and clearly for the first time.

“Thank you, dear sister. I know not what would have become of I if you had not taken me.”

What Pricilla did next surprised even me. With confidence she strode over to Cinderella and smacked her across the face. (“Wouldn’t do,” as she later confirmed with us yet not without the twinkle in her eyes, “to have the ‘brat’ failing within the first five minutes and be back to where we were before we had even began.”)

Cinderella recoiled her eyes wide with surprise, followed by another of acknowledged submission and acknowledgement. She understood her place and that place gave her purpose.

Cinderella knelt, her head deliberately look down upon the floor – her floor. “What would you like me to call you,” she queried.

Pricilla later confessed to us she had not considered this, but felt anything less than an answer would show weakness and also threaten the whole idea.

“You may call each of us your Mistress, for in every way we are your Masters. If you wish to ask something you may simply speak when we are in the room, if it is urgent you may knock three times at our door and wait. When you need to ask something you will kneel before us as your body is ours to do with as we wish.

“Yes, Mistress.” Her head was bent in acknowledgement.

“Good girl,” Pricilla cooed. She got up to leave. “The kitchen is now your home, your bedroom, your living room – everything you need will be provided here.”

Cinderella made no reply but her head bent a fraction lower to indicate she had heard.

Pricilla had her foot on the stair to return to us. “The reward of your job will ensure you are adequately fed from the remains of what you cook for us, as well as the pleasure of knowing you have satisfied Myself and my two sisters.” And with that she returned to us.

(c) Sophie 23rd June 2013

[iceman713]

Again, one of the best on site, great job.