A Dickgirl Fairytale

Still, she couldn't take the chance. Claude was a con and a grifter who, in spite of her fingers inside his ass, would sell her out to the highest bidder or the biggest prize. The memory of Claude along with all of his kind would fade away once she left the town.

Ella looked at the paintings of Margery and her daughters quickly and gave Claude her opinion. "Lady Hastings is fine." He had been far too kind, much better than she deserved. The old bitch even looked to be alive rather than the thin, pale skeleton that she really was. "Anastasia and Druscilla need some work," she shook her head, "Druscilla looks like a horse."

Claude shrugged, "But my love, she really does look like a horse in the face. What am I to do?"

Ella twisted her lips, trying to hold back her laugh, "Make her a pretty horse."

"Wait, I have something for you, my darling," Claude stopped her with his hand on her fingers, the same fingers that had been in his bottom. He turned to a leather bound journal that was propped up near the easel. He opened it, turned two pages and then held a piece of parchment in his hand.

He had drawn Ella. If the boy used this kind of skill with her stepmother and the brats, they would be the most beautiful women in all the land. Claude had used his imagination to fill in the details of her bare shoulders, her round bottom, her creamy, thick thighs and little feet. She was a ravishing beauty, with her flaxen locks wound down her back. There was almost a trellis of blonde hair that hid her sex and the crack of her ass. Ella couldn't help but smirk. If Claude only knew that the woman that he begged for sexual favors from had a cock that was twice as big as his, she wondered if he'd sketch her. "This is very nice, Claude," Ella told him, hand on one hip as she surveyed his work. "What am I to do with it?"

He came close and kissed her forehead softly. "Keep it and know that I think very fondly of you."

Perhaps Ella really was a whore in her heart. If it didn't carry enough value to be tucked away in her leather pouch, it was just nonsense. "Finish the portraits," she said and tucked his folded sketch into her blouse and left his room.

The sun was getting closer to midday and Ella had many more stops to make before she could get back to the manor. In the evenings, she began the chores that she was still expected to do. Summer solstice would be here soon and that meant that she'd been a slave for a whole year. What had been meant to break her had just made her stronger. Ella was used to working from sun up to sun down and usually well after. She was half starved and yet she was faster now than she had been in the beginning. She was like a stone.

Sometimes she thought her heart was too.

Summer solstice was also her birthday as well as the ball that Claude could hardly wait to attend. Ella smiled to herself as she remembered the balls that her parents had thrown at the manor once or twice when she was a girl. They were grand affairs and she could still picture Lady Celestria in all of her finery. The train of her mother's dress had been a trail of blue silk and her mother had been as regal as a queen. It was the life that Ella was supposed to live. By now, if her parents had been alive, she had no doubt that she'd be married and live in her own castle.

It would make a fitting farewell, Ella decided with a nod to herself as she made the corner and turned to enter the butcher's shop. By then, she'd have enough coins in the leather sack to do as she pleased. She would go to the ball as well. She'd celebrate her last birthday in the village in the guise of a lady rather than the whore that she'd become.

Then they could all go to hell.

***

The dressmaker was a tall, thin man with long, dexterous fingers and a nervous way about him. Ella believed that his name was George but he'd never looked her in the eye when he spoke so she couldn't be sure. He mumbled and more often than not had pins in his mouth.

This afternoon, he knelt in the center of the great room and hemmed Anastasia's ball gown. It was black and suited her hair and her coloring. Ella stood in the dark corner and watched as the man's swift fingers touched the fabric. Anastasia's bosom heaved, she had been laced so tightly in her corset. It had been a while since Ella had been called upon to bathe the girls. Perhaps Lady Margery had gotten wind of the Sapphic nature of her daughter's time together and decided that they should bathe themselves alone. Perhaps the two of them just satisfied each other at any other time of day. It wasn't like either of them had work to be done. They had the entire day to caress and fondle and lick and suck each other.

Ella let out a little sigh and was grateful for the dark corner to step further back and adjust her flailing cock as she imagined the two girls naked in the other's caress. Damn, it wasn't as if either of them were even slightly attractive and yet, the effect that they could have on her body was undeniable. Although the men that she serviced were attractive either but reliably and without fail, Ella was hard every single time.

Especially with the priest.

She hated Friar Charles with a passion and clenched her teeth, even her small hands curled into two fists whenever she pictured him. The friar had come up with a myriad of reasons to see her and to rape her in any number of ways. The priest had her mouth as well as her ass. Sometimes he would fuck her ass until he was on the verge of his climax, just to pull out and finish in her mouth. On those occasions, he fed Ella her own taste all the way down into her stomach. He insisted on watching her pleasure herself, as if she couldn't still hate him even in the throes of losing all control. Even if his cock in her ass was ecstasy, Ella wanted to slit his throat.

At least he paid her in coin now. She had decided that the church could afford it and after every visit, as she left the friar's room and walked through the sanctuary, she took a long look at the cross and shook her head.

"You know that there's only two days left until the ball." Her stepmother had crept up from nowhere and startled Ella out of her nightmarish daydreams. "There's still so much to do, so much to pay for." The Dowager meant that Ella should be out servicing clients rather than watching the dressmaker.

Ella had also dreamt of telling the wizened, old cow that her golden goose would be gone after the ball. She was determined not to spoil the surprise but Ella had called her stepmother's bluff. There was no way that Lady Margery would tell a soul what her stepdaughter was. She was far too comfortable from the fruits of her labor. So Ella had stopped tolerating her altogether. "Don't you worry about the time, Margery," Ella told her as she glared at the woman. "I've taken care of my part."

Her stepmother didn't like that she'd lost control of Ella and pouted. "You're getting quite mouthy lately, freak," she threw in the last word under her breath.

Ella smirked, "My mouth pays for your life, Margery. So you can like it or not, I don't care." She enjoyed watching the Dowager's eyes glow with her fury. Her mouth turned into a little "o" as she sucked in air. She wanted to strike Ella, to do something to punish her, but she dared not. Margery knew what Ella said was true. Ella continued, "besides I need to see the dressmaker for my own dress."

Margery exclaimed, "Ha! Look at you, Ella! You're filthy. You're absolutely horrid. How can you go to the ball? I won't let you embarrass me!" she used an imperious tone and looked down her nose at Ella.

As if she were anything more than a beggar before taking the Hastings home and title. "I won't be going with you," Ella scoffed. She actually hadn't thought of how she would get to the castle. There hadn't been time to think that far ahead yet. Perhaps she would hitch her star to Claude's. She was sure that the boy had thought of everything. "Don't worry, I won't say a word to anyone that I know any of you," Ella sneered. She wished that she could tell Margery that she'd never speak of the old bitch to a soul once she'd left town.

"But, but," Margery was troubled. Ella had seen that look many times before, the old lady's eyes darted about like a rat in a trap. She didn't want Ella there. Clearly it wasn't just embarrassment, she didn't want Ella to outshine Anastasia and Druscilla. "But how will you pay for a dress?" her stepmother asked. For a moment, it was almost as if she had forgotten how they paid for everything.

Ella had to laugh. "Once I've finished with him, I'm sure to have the prettiest dress in all the land."

Her stepmother stormed off and Ella smiled slyly in the dark to herself. The dressmaker had finished with his alterations and had begun to unhook Anastasia's corset. He assisted her and peeled the dress down. The pearls and beads that the man had attached along the bustling were shimmering little reminders of Anastasia's breasts in the bath water. Ella once again found herself ogling her sister like a man would, with hungry eyes and a cock that was half risen. She imagined bending Anastasia over in the tub water and fucking her plump bottom from behind. She could hear the slosh of the water as it rose in the tub. It slapped from side to side and spilled onto the floor as Ella took her. She would fuck her sister deeply and slowly until Anastasia cried out for more.

"Pardon me," the dressmaker mumbled as he bent and bowed. His bag was in one hand and his hat in the other. The man was leaving and Ella needed a few minutes of his time.

"Please, George," Ella stopped him with her little fingers on his hand. "Please, can you help me with another dress?"

The man always seemed to be worried. The thought of just one more dress this close to the first ball that the prince had thrown in years made him draw up his pleasant face into a scowl. "There isn't time for another dress," he said quietly, almost apologizing.

Ella was determined to be her most persuasive. She whispered, "But it's already made. It just needs to be fitted." She cocked her head and thrust her cleavage up. She hoped that her luscious curves would help to convince him to help.

His mouth was a straight line, "But I have many other appointments today miss."

She tugged at his sleeve. "Please, I promise, just follow me. It won't take you long at all and I'll pay you with your heart's desire." Ella's voice dipped down low, a husky tone. It was a voice that suggested a naked, blonde girl in his arms, wonton and lusty and his, for a dress.

He exhaled shakily and Ella could feel the heat that rose from his body as he agreed with simply a nod. They walked the winding stone staircase together, two pairs of heels that clicked along until they reached the top. He walked right to the attic room that had become Ella's refuge. "Come in," she beckoned to him with her little hand. She watched as George checked suspiciously over both shoulders, as if her stepmother were sure to pounce on him for the dastardly deed he was about to do. Ella giggled. Her stepmother would sell Ella to the highest bidder and never had a moment's concern for Ella's maidenhood. "Don't worry, no one's coming," she assured the dressmaker.

Once they were both behind the door, Ella opened the lid of the trunk where she had kept her prize from thieving eyes. The fabric was light. It was a gossamer pink with little gold threads that ran throughout. The dress weighed almost nothing and she handed it to George. "It was my mother's." It was old but it was fine and much better quality than the dressmaker had made for the stepsisters or their mother. "I just need it to be fitted," Ella twisted her mouth into a little bow, a plea for help. She was a little more voluptuous than Lady Celestria had been. She was a little fuller in the bust and the hips and just a little taller. Ella knew from glances of herself here and there in the glass that she could have been mistaken for the other quite easily.

She had grown up to be a ravishing beauty after all.

George sat on the straw mattress to take it in and he ran his fingers over the material and smiled. "This is beautiful," he murmured, adding softly as he looked up at her, "and what is my heart's desire?"

Ella reached for his britches and slowly began to massage his cock through his fabric. George was already mostly hard and just the touch of her fingers on his dick like this sent a shudder down his body. The dressmaker lay back on her bed and spread his legs wide for her as he watched. "This is your heart's desire," her nimble fingers opened his closure and her hot breath bathed his pink erection once he was bare for her. "Is it not?" she asked him softly before she darted her tongue out to caress the velvety head of his dick. He was soft over iron. His body was pale and thin and his hip bones were chiseled ivory. His legs were skinny ropes of muscle. George's ribs showed when he pulled up his shirt, so he could watch her drink him down.

"Yes," he admitted with a sigh. His cock was fully risen now. It throbbed as she licked up the sticky brine that he dripped for her on his own stomach. "Oh yes," the dressmaker was already breathless as Ella tasted him. "No one's ever done that to me," he confessed as his hands reached down to caress her blonde hair.

Ella resolved to make it something that he'd never forget. She bowed her head to take the man in his entirety inside her wet mouth. She slurped him up into her slippery embrace. Ella bobbed her head and buried her nose in the wiry bush of hair on his pelvis. She took in his manly scent and listened to his cry. "Yes, please, oh god," he moaned loudly. Suddenly he didn't care if her stepmother were close by to hear him fornicate with her stepdaughter. "Please, please," the dressmaker pleaded for her as his thighs clenched and released. He thrust quickly back and forth into her luscious mouth.

Ella's cock drooled down the front of her frock as she picked up the pace. Her tongue lavished his shaft. Her hot liquid coated him and his vein quivered under her tongue. The peaks and valleys along his length, the ridge under his head, all of it soaked in her mouth and washed with the tip of her salacious, little tongue.

She wondered what it would feel like to have a mouth on her own dick.

A hot, warm mouth that invited her inside and trapped her there between its insistent lips. Just the thought was enough for Ella to groan, the dick in her mouth muffled the sound of her need. Ella wanted to grab herself through her skirt as she sucked him in deeper and faster. A puddle of her saliva pooled in his hair now. She wished that she could stroke herself as she took him in, just a quick few strokes with her soft little hand and she'd melt. Her back would convulse as she released her own pent-up frustrations while gulping down his.

She couldn't take the chance, the dressmaker was on the precipice. Ella could tell by the way his thighs tensed, she could sense him rise up on his toes to feed her his creamy load. He gasped once more and his fingers curled in Ella's long, thick hair. His orgasm came with a spurt and a sound that came from somewhere at his depths. "God, my god, yes, yes," he fed her in dashes and dollops. Ropes and ropes of his essence entered Ella's mouth and she swallowed it down, warm and salty, to her belly.

The dressmaker was empty after a minute or two and his grip in Ella's hair loosened. His hand slipped to the mattress with a contented sigh that Ella felt from his belly, her forehead still touched him there as his cock slid from her mouth.

Ella laid her fingers on his forearm and listened to his steady, rhythmic breath. The man rolled from her little bed and chuckled. The dressmaker looked Ella in the eye for the first time. "Oh my goodness, I owe you so much more than a dress," he laughed.

Ella assured him in a sweet voice, "Just the dress, that will be perfect."

***

It was twilight on Summer Solstice and the sun was splayed on the western horizon. It spilled gold and red and pink across the skyline. Purple finger-like shadows began to reach out. To the east, the stars washed the inky black in a diamond glow. The moon was full and heavy and golden. It laid a radiant blanket down and seemed to rest, heavy in the sky as it watched the revelry below.

Ella had washed thoroughly for the first time in eons. She'd warmed water in the teapot and poured it into a bucket of cold that she'd brought into the kitchen. She had even used some soap that she had found tucked away in a drawer. Ella had acquired a comb from the baker as a gift for one particularly amorous morning. The dress fit now as if it were made for her. The dressmaker had more than been good to his word and he'd even given her a gift of shoes. It had been late in the day when Ella opened the little sack to see what was inside. She had no words for a moment, she opened her mouth and only air came out. Finally, with a heart full of gratitude and a tear that threatened to spill down her cheek, she whispered, "I can't pay you for these right now."

George tucked a piece of her blonde hair behind Ella's ear and winked at her. "I told you that I owed you more than a dress."

Her clean hair was combed and gleamed in the light. Her cheeks were rosy and her blue eyes sparkled. The corset was cinched tightly and made her waist even smaller than usual. Ella saw her reflection in the glass of a cabinet door and had to smile at herself. Perhaps she'd been pretty as a girl. She didn't really remember and she had definitely never felt like the beautiful young woman that her mother had told her she was. This creature in the mirror though, Ella blushed as she stared, this radiant creature was a goddess.

Her cock stirred and rumbled and Ella giggled as she adjusted. Of course, there was that. She might be a goddess with a cock but tonight she was determined to keep him tucked away so that she could truly be a lady. She hadn't bought any of the proper undergarments that went with the dress so the only solution was not to be excited.

It was difficult to walk in the shoes. On top of that, the long dress was somewhat treacherous. Ella had to remind herself to keep her shoulders back and the million of little things that Lady Celestria had reminded her of all along. It seemed to be a lot to remember for the evening but she was finally the lady that her parents had intended her to be and that was well worth it. As Ella took the stairs, she practically floated. She wasn't meant to be a whore. She was meant to dress in beautiful gowns and dance all night under the stars. Ella was meant to live like a princess.

Ella's two stepsisters took notice and appeared to be alarmed. Druscilla was dressed in white and looked comely enough with her ginger-colored curls set in place. Her face was still her face though and nothing could be done to fix that. "Where are you going dressed like that?" Druscilla screeched.

It was a stupid question with an obvious answer and Ella said simply, "The same place you're going." The two girls waited for their borrowed coach to arrive. No one could suck enough cocks to pay for that, so Lady Margery had to call on a friend for a favor. Ella planned to walk in the tight shoes to Claude's room at the Inn and from there, they would ride with a wealthy friend to the castle. Claude had warned her ahead of time that they both might have to use their mouths to pay for the privilege.

Anastasia snarled, "Who did you steal that dress from? It surely isn't yours." Anastasia also had tried her best and the black dress was stunning but there was only so much that could be done with her homely features.

Ella spoke in a low voice and held back the tidal wave of anger that threatened to crest over both of them. Just one more day, one more night really. After these last few moments, when would she see them again? Ella would be gone in the morning before either of these two lazy bitches were even awake. "It was my mother's dress and now it's mine," she replied.