Sinderella: Naughty Fairytales 1 Read online

  Rosamund laughed and sipped her wine. “Well, get on with it then so I may ready myself for the ball. I so want to meet with our cousin, the king, again.” She folded her skirts and looked like she was getting herself comfortable.

  I was aghast. They were cousins to the king? These people?

  He held a hand out to the chaise, opposite his sister. “Please, lie back. I will check your virtue before I make you my wife.”

  My lips pressed into each other, making a tight line.

  He shoved me slightly, making me stumble back. “I will force you if I have to. But that will involve asking your stepmother to come back in and hold you down—I imagine that would be less than desirable for you.”

  I swallowed hard, sitting back on the chaise. I gripped to the sides of the fabric with my sweaty hands. He put his fingers on the arm of it and lowered to the ground, settling himself next to my legs. He bent forward, touching his hands to my shoes.

  “Do you always dress as a peasant?” He lifted my dress hem.

  I fought the urge to kick at him as his hands lifted my skirts even higher.

  “Do you? Answer me.”

  I nodded, taking short breaths as the skirt passed my knees, leaving them bare to the warm air of the room. What was happening? Why was he checking my virtue? Did a nursemaid not do that? Did we not show the bloody sheets? I had never heard of such an act, but maybe young ladies never spoke of it.

  He shrugged, “Well, your manner of dress shall change. Surely that is of great excitement for you?”

  I didn't know what he was talking about, but I knew I wanted no part in it. I nearly shook my head, watching his elderly hands run up the smooth skin of my upper thigh. The contrast in our skin was remarkable.

  He gripped hard, biting his fingers into the meaty part of my leg. “Does that excite you, nice clothing and being the mistress of a fine castle?”

  I looked into his harsh, blue eyes and nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  His hand gripped either thigh, spreading them hard and fast. I cried out, swearing again that I heard my stepmother chuckle from the other side of the door.

  He pushed his hands up my legs, spreading my thighs more and wiggling himself between them.

  I shook my head, “Please, sir. Please. I swear, I am a virgin.”

  He smiled but his eyes looked like that of a dead fish. They were so cold that I could see my fearful face in them. “I know you are.” He lifted the skirts more, revealing my nickers.

  He grabbed at the top of them, untying the laces and tearing with a fierceness I never imagined his old hands capable of. I tried to squeeze my thighs but his body between them prevented it. I cried out again as he tore even more, ripping my nickers down the middle. The cold air brushed against my most sacred parts, as did his waistcoat. My hands flew at him but he grabbed them, pinning them to the back of the chaise. “Shall I request aid or will you permit me my survey of your virtue?”

  I trembled against his strength. When he felt my defeat, he released my arms. He sat back on his heels, still between my legs. I could feel the coarseness of his clothing brushing against the inside of my knees. My sex was bared to his view. I looked away, refusing to acknowledge the very deed that was being done.

  “Look sister, see how fine her cunny is. So pink and pure. Makes one crave a fresh peach.”

  My cheeks blushed and my legs trembled, but I forbid myself to look or acknowledge the moment.

  His sister’s words were laughed, “Yes, brother. She has fine fruits. Have your dessert so we may retire to ready for the ball.”

  My eyes shut, desperate to block out what was about to happen as his hands slid up my thighs. I jumped when something, one of his fingers I would imagine, brushed the outer lips. It tickled and the disturbing part was it tickled nicely. The horror of the man I would marry brushing against my cunny was troubling. I should have been excited, knowing I would marry and that someone beyond myself would finally be touching me. I always rubbed myself before sleeping, sometimes imagining it was my future husband doing it. I loved the release I got.

  Now that it was happening, I wanted death or abandonment more than I wanted anything else. But as his fingers pried my lips open and exposed me to the room completely, I knew it could actually be worse. Drusilla could be in the room, instead of pressing her ear against the wooden door. She could be holding me down as he tested my virtue.

  I was trapped.

  I felt warmth, as his face was lowered between my legs. Something warm and wet slid up me. I gasped, it wasn't a horrible feeling, but imagining his old face buried between my thighs was a horrid image. He lapped me like a dog would his dinner, running his tongue up and down my slit.

  “You taste like fresh fruit. I can taste the innocence on you,” he whispered into my sex. His hot breath brushed against my lips. It felt astonishing, and yet I had never hated my body’s natural responses so.

  He licked next on my nub, flicking it. Heat rushed my body and I moaned, “Please stop.” But he did not. He licked faster, swirling his tongue around it over and over. Suddenly the image of the beautiful man I imagined in my dreams was there. Behind my eyes he was there. It was his beautiful face I imagined bent between my legs, swirling around my nub. He sucked and the warmth covered my body. I tensed my legs, almost wrapping them around his face. My stomach twitched and it happened. I released. It was so sudden, I hadn’t even noticed the build up.

  I shuddered and moaned, grinding my pelvis into his face. The feel was wondrous for all of a second. I opened my eyes to see his aged face instead of my beautiful imagination.

  He licked his plump lips and smiled, “She has a whore’s cunny, Rose. She cums like you used to.”

  I nearly gagged.

  His eyes darted to his sister, “Remember how you like it?”

  She got up off of the chaise she was on and sauntered over to us. The look on her face was disturbing. She dropped to her knees next to him and ran her hands up my thighs. Her long nails scratched lightly on my thighs. She almost purred like a cat, “I do remember, Hedrick. I remember it like it was yesterday.” Her blue eyes that matched his landed on my cunny. “I guess it was only yesterday.”

  I watched her hands, distracted by the nails and rings. But it was his hands I should have paid more attention to. I didn't notice them until it was too late. He had slid them between my legs and entered my maiden hole. I clenched but his sister’s nails dug into my leg, “It is better if you relax and let him in there.”

  I shuddered as he pushed his gnarled old finger into me, stopping when he met with the wall of my maidenhood. He pushed once, making me cry out in pain. He stopped. “The wall is thick. That will hurt when it comes down.” He winked at me. “I’m excited for our wedding night now.”

  Rosemund stood, but Hedrick reached up and ripped open the bodice of my dress, exposing my breasts. He rolled one nipple and nodded. “She will do, nicely.”

  He got up as well and walked from the room, leaving me there stunned. Hot tears slipped from my eyes, silently dripping down my cheeks.

  After a moment Drusilla poked her head in. Her eyes darting to my exposed sex and bared breasts. She laughed softly, “Did you enjoy that, Cinder Ella?”

  I hated the cruel name they called me.

  I hated that a man I despised had humiliated me and made me like it.

  I hated that Drusilla was seeing me as vulnerable and violated as I was. Mostly I hated that I had allowed it.

  I could have fought harder.

  I could have run.

  I could have slit my own throat.

  A cold sneer claimed my stepmother's look. “You will get to enjoy that disturbed man every night for the rest of his life. I picked him because of the rumors about the deeds that have gone on in their castle. Frightening actions to make a young girl weep.”

  I was lost in the cruelty of her stare but her next words shocked me to the bone. “You know he forces his maids to let the stable boys and farm hands have them.” She sm
iled wider. “Maybe you too will be allowed to share that fate with them, since you’re already a servant.” She turned and left me there alone with that thought, that horror.

  3

  I sat in the corner, suffering from the stinging of the scrubbing I had forced upon my flesh. I had boiled the water and washed every inch of myself with crushed lavender in the water. I had made a tea of the lavender and used goat’s soap to cleanse, all the while crying and rocking back and forth. My skin was still bright red from the searing heat of the whole experience.

  Abbi walked into my room. “My love, are you hurt? Drusilla seems to be in a ripe old mood. I’m assuming he’s taken your virtue?”

  I shook my head, “He never got anything, just my pride.”

  “Hedrick Grey is a monster. I have asked around the village, and there’s talk of the crimes that are committed there—beastly acts one should never discuss. It is disturbing to say the least. You must run. Gregor has agreed to take you to the far side of the kingdom, from there it is a short ride to the next kingdom. He has agreed you must flee. The Middletons think they know of a family in need of help in the next kingdom over. They have sent word, you will arrive there.”

  I looked down, “What will I do?”

  She grabbed my hands, gripping them tightly. In the dim light I could see the tears on her face. “You are like a daughter to me. I cannot bear this. You will find a place to work as you do now, safe from their evil. There are God’s people everywhere. You just have not met them here.” She kissed my tender hands softly. “Promise me you will run and give that family in the next kingdom a chance?”

  “I will.”

  She smiled through her tears, “Let’s get you ready. They have just left for the ball. Thankfully they never asked you to come with them. Rosamund refused to be seen with you, because she believes everyone must know of you as a servant.”

  I stood and walked to the small window in the room and sat on the stool, next to the fire where I lay desperate for warmth most nights. I glanced out at the setting sun. There was only a trace if it left at the fine line of the horizon. “I wish I might have gone to the ball with them, as their equal. It would have made Drusilla angry.”

  She sat on the stool next to me and stared at the lights of the castle in the sky. They made the whole sky dance and twinkle, like they were extra stars.

  “I wish you might have as well, but this is better. You have time to run.”

  I nodded but never said a word. She got up and grabbed my hand. “Come, my dear. You must away.”

  I let her pull me through the house to the back door where Gregor was waiting with a horse. It was growing quite dark, and I did not know how we would see the road.

  Gregor climbed upon the horse and offered me his hand, weathered from years of farm labor. I hugged Abbi, feeling sobs about to rip through me.

  She whispered into my hair. “I love you. If the job doesn’t work out at the new house, you keep moving. When you get to a new town, find a house that is fine, but not too fine. Make sure to look as plain as possible and tell them the jobs you’ve done here for work. You’re an orphan who has lost her family and farm to a fire. That's all. Keep it simple and be brave. No singing and making yourself pretty.” She kissed my cheek and hugged me again.

  “Don't forget to feed Gus. He’ll starve, the lazy mouse.” I turned and let Gregor pull me onto the horse behind him.

  Abbi’s soft cries, mixed with the gallop of the horse, were all I heard as we left the yard. I looked back to see the windows of my father’s house lit up with candles. Soft sobs slipped from my lips as we dashed into the forest.

  I wrapped my arms around Gregor’s waist and closed my eyes. “Thank you, Gregor.”

  He gripped my hand. “I am so sorry it has come to this, Ella. My mother is right though, we should have run yesterday.”

  He pressed the horse to ride harder.

  I didn't know where we were or if we were even on a road. The night got darker and the forest grew frightening.

  My grip on Gregor grew tighter.

  I closed my eyes again and waited for it to all be over. When I felt him slow down, I opened my eyes to see a massive estate on the right side of the road. The torches and candles had it lit up.

  He looked back at me. “This is as far as I can take you. You must go alone from here. I will walk back, so as to make it seem as though you have snuck off. I can’t let Mother take the blame.” He jumped down from the horse and took my hand. “Be safe.” He handed me a dagger. “Kill anyone who comes close to you.”

  I didn't know we would part so soon. I felt my tears rising in my chest again, making a lump in my throat.

  He squeezed my hand once and slapped the horse’s backside. The horse took off. “Stay on the road!” Gregor called.

  I gripped to the reins, nearly blind from my tears as I faced the unknown, alone for the first time ever. My eyes felt like I had dirt in them and my heart ached. I longed for the comfort of my straw bed and the warmth of my hearth.

  I could almost hear my father’s voice, telling me to be a brave girl like he had when my mother had died.

  The forest grew darker still. I was no longer helped by the light of the farms or chalets as we rode on. But the sky was lit, as if I had drawn near the castle or the moon had come up finally.

  Suddenly the horse slowed, regardless of my urging him to move. He stopped, frozen in his tracks. The forest was silent and the air around us cold. I gripped to him, nudging with my heels but he didn't budge. I started to cry, leaning forward, “Please, horse. Please.”

  But he ignored my pleas and stood his ground. He whinnied and backed up slightly, shaking his head.

  I pulled the dagger Gregor had given me. My hands trembled with the weight of it, but I wasn't going to die without a fight. I wasn’t going to lie there, turning my face away in shame as I had for Hedrick. I assumed it was a bear or some kind of creature that the horse was scared of. I was not prepared for what I saw.

  I narrowed my gaze to see off in the distance, above the forest—a falling star. It came down as if on a mission to meet with us. I held my breath as the beautiful light lowered into the forest in front of us. It became something stranger still. A blue light filled a small part of the forest, floating almost. The star was not what I had imagined stars would be. It fluttered like a butterfly would until it got close and then it hovered.

  “Ella!”

  I had to be mistaken. I could have sworn I had heard my name called from the tiny blue light. But then it happened again. “Ella, my sweet, Ella.”

  I swallowed hard, shaking my head in disbelief.

  “Ella, my love. I have one night to help you change your stars and reclaim your destiny.”

  The blue light got closer—so close I could see the spark within it. The spark grew in brightness, so much so my horse backed up farther and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, a plump, dark-haired woman with a beautiful face and a blue dress stood before me. She smiled and I recalled her, as if it were a dream that I didn't quite remember.

  “Ella!” She smiled. Her voice was the same as the star’s. “We must hurry. You are short on time, and I am certain you won’t want to miss a moment.” She walked closer. “Step down, so I might have a chance at seeing you, my sweet girl.”

  I gripped the knife, not sure what to do. My heart told me to trust her; the dream she was from was a good one. Her voice was like a song I knew. I slipped down from the horse onto my uneasy legs.

  She smiled wider, still walking to me. “Oh my dear, I knew you would be a beauty. You are my sister, face and eyes.”

  It hit then. I collapsed into the dirt as a stream of steady tears drained from my eyes. “Mother.”

  She nodded and rushed to me. She wrapped herself around me, gripping me tightly. I closed my eyes and I was a small girl again. I dropped the blade from my fingers. “Have I died, Mother?”

  She kissed the top of my head. “No, sweet girl. You are alive, and by a mirac
le I am able to come back to you for one night.”

  I was in her arms, smelling her scent and feeling safer than I imagined possible. I cried into her dark hair, “Mother!”

  She nodded and kissed the top of my head, “My baby. I’m so sorry I left you. I’m so sorry. I wish I could stay here on the road and hold you all night long.”

  I gripped to her, losing myself in her embrace. She kissed my cheek, “But tonight you must change your stars. You must go to the ball.”

  I shook my head, “I can’t go there. I want to stay here with you.”

  She wiped my tears and brushed my hair from my eyes and damp cheeks. “You must go to the ball. It is your destiny.”

  I shook my head again, “I don't want to. I just want to be free. I am on the run, fleeing for the safety of the next kingdom.”

  She smiled, “You will go to the ball, my precious. Trust me. Now let’s get this part done. You have a party to attend and there is no fighting it.”

  She helped me up and wiped my face. Her dark-blue eyes sparkled. I had her eyes, I knew that. Dark-blue eyes but my father’s hair, golden blond. The blue eyes were more striking on her, against her pale skin and dark hair. She was the prettiest woman. Her plump cheeks made me instantly happy. She hugged me again and then tapped her finger against her button nose. She let me go and paced for a second, looking like she had lost her mind.

  She muttered and paced. “Now, I don't actually know how to do this. So bear with me. There was a rhyme I was supposed to say and I needed something.” She looked down and clapped her hands. “Of course.” She picked up a stick from the ground and began to wave it back and forth, muttering something like she might not have forgotten all the words. A smile slipped across her lips, “Now I remember.”

  She sang a song of words I didn't think made sense, but suddenly the air around us sparkled with the blue light she had ridden from the heavens. She pointed at a large pumpkin growing in the ditch. It hopped along the dirt until it was in the middle of the road. My hands covered my mouth to prevent the scream I so desperately wanted to unleash. The pumpkin was moving as though it were possessed. I blinked and it was no longer a pumpkin, but a coach. A beautiful coach like a king would ride in.