Cinderella retold

[Hades]

Dang this story is really good

[SophieAnn2]

Thank you, Hades. Hopefully get a little time to write some more soon.

Love, Sophie xx

[kmacroxs]

This is a fantastic story. You are a great writer. Please continue writing this story.

[SophieAnn2]

Thank you, Kmacroxs

Your thoughts mean a lot to me. I will continue as soon as I get time. Promise. xx

[SophieAnn2]

Chapter FOUR

I’ll never forget that first day when we began on Cinderella. With absolutely no time for any reasonable adjustment, she went from equal to slave in just a matter of minutes.

As always it was Pricilla who took charge, although this time Esmeralda and I wanted to be close by to see for ourselves if this was really going to work. Cinderella was in her usual place on the kitchen floor, rocking slowly backwards and forwards in her undergarments. In a swift move Pricilla walked over and snatched the beautiful dress Cinderella had discarded and brought her attention to us in a moment. She looked up enquiringly: “Yes?”

Pricilla snarled and I stifled a giggle in spite of myself. I am not sure whether it was nerves or perverse amusement. She slapped Cinderella around the face.

“That,” she spat “is for not remembering your manners! Had I not already made it clear to you you were to address us all as Mistress?”

Cinderella recoiled in surprise, followed by a look of recognition and submission. “I… I forgot myself. Mistress,” she quickly amended.
Pricilla let it go.

“I might remind you you are to obey our every instruction to the letter, and if you can’t do it you must perform your very best duty as if you can and we will decide if it is sufficient.”

“Yes, Mistress. Please,” she hesitated for a moment. “May I ask you a question?”

“You may.”

“Where am I to look when you are talking?”

Pricilla thought for a moment and turned to look at us who of course had no comment but smiled unhelpfully in reply. “On the floor,” she decided. “After all, it is where you belong. Furthermore, anyone who comes in at the door, you will also look downwards, never meeting their eyes. You are not equal, nor have ever been.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you.” She hesitated as if pondering whether to go on.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

Pricilla smiled. Cinderella missed it through staring downwards. “Good girl.

And don’t forget it.”

“Is there anything I can do for you now,” she enquired.

“No. Although, I have thought of one more thing. I have decided the likes of you cannot use the washroom. You must wash using water from the sink in a bucket we will give you for all your personal hygiene.”

Cinderella gulped.

“And don’t you dare use that bucket for yourself indoors. You go into the back garden to do that, even when it snows. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

With that, Pricilla and the rest of us returned upstairs.

Once safely in our room we exploded into heaps of giggles. Esmeralda especially had her hands all over us, and stimulated we lay down and enjoyed each other with pleasure. Only after we finished did we decide to turn our attention to matters more practical.

I was to go out and buy Cinderella all the utensils she would need. Mops, two buckets (one for cleaning one for herself), cleaning fluids, brushes, dishcloths and so on. I found doing so highly entertaining and unexpectedly arousing, my thoughts perpetuated of Cinderella kneeling on the floor, her ass sticking upwards for us to admire the view, dust upon her dainty arms and legs.

Then, suddenly having an idea I went to the shop and bought her a silver dress as well. The garment although soft and silky was otherwise fairly plain.
“What the hell did you do that for,” Pricilla asked me in disgust when I returned.

“Think about it, dear sister,” I replied with an attempt at an evil grin. “This dress is a lot less sophisticated than ours and it will give her more to think about when to wash it when to wear it, and besides it will soon look as dirty and disgusting as she’s going to appear when she’s been on the floor for such a long time.” I let out a nervous giggle.

Pricilla simply stared at me for a few minutes. I held my ground but didn’t reply. After all, if Pricilla didn’t want it I was not going to challenge her any further.

Suddenly her serious face blossomed into a grin. “I like it,” she said, running her hands through the material. “You should give it to her right away.”

“Not you,” I asked, nervous doubt suddenly entering into my voice.

“Your idea. Besides, you’re good at that kind of thing. Don’t doubt yourself so much, Arabella.”

I sighed, but didn’t want to rise against my sister. “No, you’re right of course, Pricilla.”

I took the garment neatly folded and went to see Cinderella. I wanted to be firm, to be cruel, to be consistent and to impress my other sisters. But somehow, something inside just made doing that so hard. Thus, with a confidence I didn’t feel, I lay the material across her bare legs, where she sat and said simply. “You are to wear this when you clean.”

I watched for her reaction.

“She ran her hands along it thoughtfully. “It’s beautiful, Mistress,” she sighed lovingly.

“Yes, well it’s the only one you are going to get. Don’t forget you must never dress above us. It is your responsibility to wash it and to keep clean using the bucket we have given you. I thought about adding that our clothes of course came first, then decided it was self-explanatory.

Cinderella sat stroking the material with her fingers, running her hands over the soft material.

“Well, don’t just stand there staring at it, put it on,” I snapped trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice.

Obediently, she jumped to her feet and tried it on, pulling it over her head. It fit perfectly, as though it had been made for her, I had chosen well. I was delighted with her appearance: “Good,” I approved.

* * *

Cinderella made good use of her promise to keep the house clean. Every day the three of us would go out to work, Cinderella would stay at home on her knees scrubbing the floor. I often imagined her there, sweat pouring over her face, her knees tired and achy, dust all over her body with a floor cloth in her hand ensuring that our room was as beautiful as she could manage. True to our expectations she washed our clothes, even mended on occasion (a skill we did not realise she possessed until Esmeralda did a little exploration with leaving a needle and thread available). And for a year everything was perfect. Having a house cleaner made our work easier and we were gradually able to stay out longer and bring in more money.

However, the following year we began noticing slips in her work. Her attention was faltering and when she replied to us, whilst not directly giving us eye contact, there was a certain tenseness and abruptness in her manner which almost seemed to threaten our imposed superiority. Deeper within her mysterious eyes there was a look about being far away, a sense of inner sadness no-one had touched. I wondered what it could be.

My sisters and I had a discussion about it the following day.

“She’s slacking,” I acknowledged.

Pricilla nodded. “I noticed her like this just before we had all that trouble a year ago. But aren’t we doing everything we can already?”

“Maybe not,” I replied with a smile.

The other two turned to me in surprise. Pricilla had her hand lovingly on my shoulder; I shivered.

“What do you have in mind?”

I imagined an evil look crossing my face. “How about a little more ‘training’?”
I could now see the evil look I imagined on my face mirrored on Pricilla’s.

“You know that’s not a bad idea, sister,” she acknowledged. “Should I be the one to issue the reprimand?”

I nodded. “I am not sure I could anyway,” I admitted. “I’m too gentle.”
Pricilla leaned over and slapped me on the ass, the noise echoing out across the house. I rolled her onto her back and kissed her, followed by tickles. Pricilla creased up into fits of giggles losing any sense of her usual control.

Suddenly becoming involved, Esmeralda pulled me back, leaning across me so I couldn’t get at my squirming sister. “Knock it out, Arabella,” she scolded.
“You always do this when we have other things to talk about.”

I received another slap from Pricilla who was determined never to give me the last word. “Esmeralda is right,” she snapped. “Stop getting distracted.”

I sighed. “But it’s so much more fun.”

Pricilla looked at me with love and admiration in her eyes. “You’re so playful today,” she cooed. “But maybe something along the lines of discipline is what is required with Cinderella. The next crack that starts appearing, I’ll come down on her hard.”

Only three days passed before such an opportunity appeared. Whilst not very significant on its own, it demonstrated part of a pattern of neglect and lack of care creeping into Cinderella’s life. My sisters and I had just returned from work, around ten o’clock in the evening and discovered a bucket of dirty water in the corner of the kitchen. Cinderella herself, was asleep curled up against the sink in the corner of the room.

In even strides Pricilla walked over to the bucket and dipped her finger in; she reported it later as being of room temperature. Picking it up, she walked with deliberation to Cinderella, held it above her and tipped it over her head. I have never quite heard a scream quite like the one that came from that corner of the room that evening.

Her light head of hair was darkened to the point it almost became black, highlighted only by the whiteness of suds, falling down upon her shoulders and falling in front of her eyes. Her silver dress, became darker and taught at different angles sticking to her skin uncomfortably, especially around the shoulders and elbows. From seeming like a sleeping baby, she now looked a mess.

In her surprise, Cinderella forgot all her mannerisms as she jerked awake in an instant. “What the heck did you do that for,” she screamed.

Pricilla took her hand and swiped it across her face. I could see Cinderella recoiling as if suddenly remembering her place. She did not say any words: on occasion sometimes the action speaks greater volumes.

“I want that cleaned up. And You. NOW,” she barked.

Cinderella jumped to her feet. Her hair was mangled, and the excess water was still dripping down her soaking dress. “Yes, Mistress,” she complied. The rest of the water was spreading across the floor towards us. Pricilla kicked off her shoes, but didn’t move as the water edged towards the bottom of her dress.

“Look at my dress,” she scolded as the water began to seep in. “It’s your fault.”

Cinderella, now obeying to the letter studied the bottom of the dress.
“By tomorrow, I want it clean, dry and folded. You are not to get any sleep until its done. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Cinderella repeated. I wondered how getting dry was even possible, but then wasn’t my place to question Pricilla’s demands, especially in front of Cinderella.

Pricilla removed her own dress bringing it over the top of her head, revealing her white lacy undergarments beneath. “I need this dress to go to work. Without work there can be no house, and without a house we cannot keep you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Cinderella repeated. Her eyes were large and there were a few tears showing.

With that, the three of us turned our back on her and retreated upstairs.
True to her word, Cinderella was up all night making the best of the dress. I know because in curiosity I checked on her four times during the night. On the first visit, she had been busy washing and cleaning; on the second she had been checking.

It was the third visit I shall always remember. Given that her instructions were to have it dry she decided despite being the middle of summer to light our open fire. I smiled in perverse delight as the unnecessary extra heat funnelled up through the house, Cinderella in front holding different parts of the dress close to the flames. Cinderella herself was obviously overheated, sweat oozing from her skin, dripping across her discoloured underwear. Several times she stopped what she was doing to brush her hair away from her face, but still she held the dress against the fire making every attempt to get it dry. A wave of guilt arose from within me, soon washed away with excitement as again I saw the sweat and perspiration from all areas of her body.

On the fourth occasion, around six in the morning I watched her out of the window, washing herself, cleaning the sweat away from her body in long even strides using cloth we had provided for such measures. Tiredness oosing from every part of her body, it was as she finished she curled asleep next to her bucket. In spite of her state, she looked truly beautiful and I felt a sense of pride and satisfaction in our achievement. Cinderella: our princess.

(c) Sophie: 30th June, 2013

[iceman713]

Wow again you have done it good job. I have been on here for a while now, but this story starting to become top 10 and that takes a lot for me

[kmacroxs]

You are an excellent writer. In my opinion, you rank up there with Jappio, Officelover, and peter1111.

This is truly a great story.

[iceman713]

When are you going to post again??

[SophieAnn2]

Hi

I'm so sorry, and thank you hugely for remembering my story.

I haven't forgotten: I have been doing a vocational course which lasts two years, and the end was last Thursday. Since, I've had more work experience and to top that some essays to complete. I've also wanted to catch up with time with my girlfriend who has been more than patient with me whilst I've completed it.

The story's not forgotten, and I have not forgotten my ideas. Thank you for being patient with me and not giving up on the story

My deepest love
Sophie
xx

[iceman713]

Well I keep looking everyday for this story. You are a talented writer. I dont want to see talent being wasted