A Dickgirl Fairytale

***

Ella felt the sunshine on her arm and the side of her face. Somewhere deep down, she knew that it was the latest she had ever been asleep, perhaps ever, but definitely since her servitude had commenced. It was warm and she cuddled in the rough blanket and burrowed down in the straw. She didn't want to wake up. Ella didn't ever want to wake up if the only place that she could be with him was in her dreams.

There was a tickle of whiskers on her cheek and a familiar chatter. Ella giggled, "stop Francis. I'm going to get up, I promise."

She froze and then leapt up from the mattress. "Francis!" she cried out in wonderment. It had been real. The fairy in the garden had been real and she'd brought Francis back to life. She picked up her mouse and looked him over carefully for any signs of last night's fatal accident. There were no bite marks, no blood. His fur wasn't even dirty and he seemed to be in excellent spirits. "Oh, Francis," she set him down carefully on her mattress and chided, "this is really all my fault, you know. You've gotten too chubby to outrun the cats." He'd gotten fat enough that Ella wasn't even sure where he would fit when she took him with her on their journey to, well, to wherever they were going.

Was she really leaving though?

Could she bear to go and never see Jonathan again? Just whispering his name to herself made her whole body come alive. Her heart raced wildly as if he might make an appearance at any moment.

If she stayed though, Ella drew her legs up and rested her chin on her knees as she tried to imagine it. He'd seen her for what she was. The prince had seen her secret in its entirety and Jonathan seemed to love her just as she was. His mouth on her flesh last night had been intoxicating. He was tender and oh so passionate. He had drunk her orgasm down like wine. Ella shuddered to imagine what might have happened if she'd stayed after the church bell tolled.

How would she go back though? Now that she had run away, would he even want her back? If Prince Jonathan was supposed to find a wife last night, Ella felt the tears well up as she told herself the cold, harsh truth. She wasn't wife material. She couldn't give him an heir. Besides, all it would take was for him to find out the rest of the truth. The inconvenient truth that he hadn't found hidden away in the folds of her dress. How did the town whore become elevated to be a princess? She wasn't sure that even with the assistance of a whole garden of fairies if that could happen.

"Cinderella!" a voice screeched out her nickname. There went the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, that same sense of dread that Ella had started to recognize as familiar. It had come back and she shook her head.

"No, Francis, I'm not doing this anymore," she told her furry companion. Even if it meant that she had to run away. Even if her one night of love was destined to be a memory that kept her warm when she was an old maid.

"Cinderella! Get down here," Druscilla screeched at the top of her lungs. Ella could only imagine what a bad humor the bitches would be in all day. Heaven forbid if they had an inkling that Ella was the girl on the prince's arm last night. She furrowed her brow and wondered. They couldn't have recognized her last night, could they? With all of the excitement, Ella had never seen them in the crowd. She'd never sought them out and frankly, hadn't even thought of the cows until just now.

There would truly be hell to pay if her stepmother knew that her daughters were out of the running because of Ella. That would be the one thing that her stepmother would betray her for. It was the one reason good enough to watch Ella in the stocks. Ella decided that she wouldn't be caught unawares, just in case that was what the old hag had planned for her. She rose from the mattress and reached for her clothes, neatly folded in a stack in the corner. The dingy blouse that she couldn't scrub clean enough to be white anymore. The bedraggled skirt with the holes that she'd darned more times than she could. The petticoat that was almost see through from wear. Ella hadn't ever really paid attention to her clothes, she'd been far too busy. After wearing something really fine, really lovely, she felt shamefully shabby now in her servant attire. She sighed and slipped on her old shoes. At least they were comfortable and not like the heels that she had on last night. "Just a little while longer," Ella told herself. She would get through the day and this whole life would be behind her.

As she passed her bed, she heard a little chink and her shoe had touched something solid. That was strange, Ella thought to herself and bent down to check the floor. At the foot of her mattress was one of the glass slippers. It was the left one to be precise and how it gleamed in the sunlight. Ella clutched it to her chest, it was something to remember him by. "Thank you," she whispered, knowing that the fairies always watched. She'd keep it forever. A keepsake from the night that she danced with the most handsome man in the world, the night she fell in love.

With the slipper tucked into one pocket and Francis in another, she had all of the love tokens that this place held for her. With the flask full of water, the leather satchel with her money slipped over her arm and perhaps a couple of loaves of bread that she'd purchase from the baker, Ella would have enough sustenance and coin to start her new life.

She closed her garret door behind her and took one last look and shrugged. It hadn't really been home since the night that Lady Celestria had died. Ella patted the pocket that Francis occupied and said, "Shh, be quiet in there and wait until we are out of the house."

***

It was a beautiful day to walk, Ella decided as she inhaled the fragrant summer breeze. Everything smelled of wildflowers and dewy grass. The breeze was cool enough to keep the heat of the sun mild on her skin. As she passed all of the familiar sights, she silently bid them farewell. The last time she would pass the inn. The last time on this winding road. The last time she would see any of her old clientele, whom she merely greeted with a silent nod if they should pass each other on the street.

When she'd purchased the bread from the baker, he looked sad not to be taking it in trade. "But, you're my favorite girl in the whole wide world," he protested when she'd passed him the coins. "Does this mean that there's a young man in your life?" he wondered and Ella almost laughed out loud. What if she told him yes, there was and he was the Prince of the land?

"All good things must come to an end," she said and gave him a little curtsy on her way out the door.

She was close to the castle when she hesitated and looked back for a moment. Could she even go back now? Now that no other man would do? Now that she ached singularly for one man, for his eyes, those hands. God, his torrid kisses and the desperate lashes of his tongue as he tried to simultaneously taste her and gulp her down inside. She ached for him. Ella looked longingly up at the castle and wondered if Jonathan wasn't thinking of her as well.

To her left, closer to the square, there was a throng of people and a fine carriage with a large, black steed. The horse pawed impatiently at the ground as if to say that he had important things to do and places to go. Ella could overhear snippets of the conversation, a word here and a word there and when she heard Prince, her feet drew her closer without her ever taking a step voluntarily.

The man was in the center of the square and he stood on a little box so that he might better be heard. He cleared his throat and called out, "Good people, good people, please be quiet." A hush went over the crowd as he continued, "as many of you know, Prince Jonathan held a ball last night and at the ball, he met his chosen bride."

There were squeals from several of the young ladies in the crowd. Ella couldn't help but smile at the thought that one of them might just be the lucky girl. After Ella had run away, it would have been easy enough for him to fetch anyone in the crowd. She sighed heavily as she thought that any of them would make a more suitable wife.

"Hush, hush," the town crier gestured with his hands and scowled. He didn't like to be interrupted. "Yes, Prince Jonathan has chosen a wife however, he currently does not know where she resides. All we do know is that she wore this," he held up the shoe. It was the enchanted glass slipper. Its mate was in Ella's pocket. "This tiny, glass slipper fit the prince's bride and so, the King has declared by proclamation that every young lady in the kingdom must try on the shoe until we find the Prince's betrothed."

Part of Ella wanted to gesture, to hold her hand up and show them all, with her head held high, that she was the one, the chosen lady. Part of Ella was so frightened that she was grateful that she hadn't eaten yet. Her legs couldn't carry her at the moment and she sat to rest under the shade of an oak tree and brought out the flask.

She could continue on her way. It was one night after all. She shook her head, not even a night really. It was a few moments, a kiss, followed by a particularly salacious kiss that had made her melt inside out but what did it really mean? The prince might take a new girl to the garden every night.

His eyes though, Ella remembered them. They had burned into her body. They were even hotter than his mouth. There was a longing there that made her heart feel as if it might burst in her chest if she wasn't his. She took a long swig of her water and Ella peeked into the pocket where Francis napped. The mouse wouldn't be disappointed when he woke up and found himself back in the garret with the rest of his friends.

She began to run back to Hastings Manor.

***

The Prince's carriage clattered down the cobblestone pavement shortly after Ella arrived at home. The throng of townspeople had followed along with the carriage. The crowd had wound their way from house to cottage to shop as they looked for the eligible maidens. Along with the curious onlookers, there had gathered quite a few of the distraught, discarded girls whose feet hadn't fit. They were determined to find whoever it was that the prince had chosen. They wanted to see her and hopefully punish her if they could. How dare she.

Ella waited in the courtyard until the footman knocked on their front door. As the man made his introductions, she crept around back to the kitchen door and entered in her usual way. She placed a sleeping Francis in a matchbox on the hearth so that the cats couldn't catch him once more in his vulnerable position. She carefully set the bread and the flask on the table and slipped the leather pouch of gold back under the potatoes. She tiptoed up the stairs to the entryway where just last night, her stepsisters had ruined her mother's dress. Now Anastasia and Druscilla pushed each other out of the way to get at the shoe.

"Girls, please, settle down," Ella's stepmother said quietly. The Dowager Hastings spoke calmly and politely, as if none of it mattered but but she was desperate. This was her daughter's last chance to take care of their mother in the manner in which Lord Hastings had been unable to provide. "Anastasia shall go first," said with decorum. As her red haired daughter began to protect. Lady Hastings put her index finger up in Druscilla's face, "and then it's your turn."

Anastasia sneered at her sister as she held up her large, fat foot and teased her. "You could always be one of my ladies in waiting" she taunted her sister. The footman held the shoe for her on a cushion. Anastasia began to squeeze and flex and scrunch her foot up into an impossible shape in an attempt to jam it in inside the slipper.

"Try harder," her mother ordered her in an imperious tone.

Anastasia snapped back in the same voice. It was a voice that was bound to send a chill down anyone's spine who was the recipient. "I am trying, mother."

The footman nodded his head as if to say that he'd had enough. "It doesn't seem to be a fit for you ma'am," he said politely. He pulled the shoe away and offered it to Druscilla with a polite, "do you care to try, miss?" It was obvious that Druscilla was no more a match than Anastasia. Her long, thin toes might not even get inside Ella's shoe, let alone the rest of her foot.

"Yes, I do," Druscilla said gleefully. She eyed her stepsister with a wicked look. "When I'm queen you'll work in the kitchen," she said with a laugh.

Anastasia puffed up her chest and her eyes flashed with fury. "Oh really? Well then it will be easier to poison your food," she snapped and slapped Druscilla's face.

"Bitch!" Druscilla cried as she darted out a hand and grabbed a handful of Anastasia's thick, black hair. She bent her sister's head back at an unnatural angle and the two girls began to scream and slap the other.

"Girls, stop this instant," her stepmother shouted. As her daughters continued to fight, Lady Hastings saw the futility in her commands and sank to her knees as the crowd watched her shame. The old woman covered her head with her hands.

The slipper went flying overhead.

Druscilla grabbed for it and missed. The footman scrambled across the floor but it flew past him. Anastasia just pointed and when it fell to the floor, the gasp from everyone was audible.

"Oh no, we'll never find her now," the footman appeared to have surrendered to the finality of the situation. He clearly dreaded having to tell the Prince what mishap had taken place. When he looked up, his face was pale and he shook his head, disheartened.

Ella came forward from the corner and said quietly, "Perhaps I can help." She pulled the other enchanted shoe from her pocket and slipped her small foot inside easily and held her skirt up high enough for all to see.

This gasp was even louder. The crowd outside shouted, "It's his bride! That's her! She's the one. They found her." The footman seemed to be frozen, on his knees as he looked up, as if to ask heaven why.

Druscilla and Anastasia had turned their heads in her direction. Ella was the target now and Druscilla had one hand up in the air, ready to strike.

"Ella, that is you!" Prince Jonathan came down from the carriage and entered the house. "My darling girl," he opened his arms wide and Ella ran to him. He kissed her forehead softly, a chaste, tender kiss as he touched her chin and brought her eyes up to meet his. "I would have searched the world for you."

"My prince," Ella whispered and wrapped her arms even tighter around him. All at once, she realized that home was here, not at the manor, but in his arms.

They were locked in their embrace when the Dowager Hastings interrupted. "I'm sorry, your highness, excuse me," she cleared her throat and waited for Prince Jonathan to look up. "There must be a mistake. That's our servant and she wasn't in attendance last night."

"Yes, that's dirty, little Cinderella," Anastasia said with her upper lip curled in disdain. She looked down on her stepsister as if Ella disgusted her too much to be talked about.

"She's the maid," Druscilla continued with a heartless laugh.

"She's filthy," Anastasia continued and cocked her head and fluttered her lashes at the Prince.

Her stepmother kept her thin lips in a straight line as she delivered the last blow. "She's the town whore," she informed Ella's lover.

Ella beckoned to Jonathan with a small finger. She stood on tiptoe to whisper something that the whole crowd strained to hear. When she was done, the Prince smiled and touched her cheek. "The three of you are to be removed from Hastings Manor immediately. You're frauds and thieves and rightfully should be put in the stocks in the town square." His voice was solemn and stern and Ella knew that the Dowager and her brats shivered with fear under their clothing. "However, my bride has chosen to show you mercy. She will allow you to serve at the castle and as long as you are good and faithful servants, no harm shall come to you. She is as merciful as she is lovely." Jonathan swept her blonde hair back and tucked a bit behind her ear. His eyes shone with affection as he added, "what a queen you will make."

And without another word, Ella had been restored to her rightful place in the world. She wanted to thank her love but the prince had something else on his mind. "That reminds me, Ella," Jonathan turned to face her. His eyes were consumed with her as he dropped to one knee and took her hand. It reminded her of the night before, when he had opened her dress and made love to her with his sweet, tender mouth. Ella was covered in goosebumps as he spoke. It seemed that even his voice was made to love her. The prince asked her in a voice that crept under her skirt and caressed her bare skin once more. "Would you do me the honor of marrying me?" He sounded nervous, as if he didn't know, as if there were anything else Ella had ever wanted.

She only whispered, "Yes, please."

***

If anyone had settled into castle life as if he were born to it, it was Francis. Ella had brought him and his family as well as most of the pets that had congregated outside her garret window along. They now lived in their very own room. It was a lovely room in the turret, a round room with a breathtaking view of the town below. This morning when Ella came up to bring them breakfast, Francis lounged on a blue, satin cushion. "What a life," Ella giggled as she watched him turn onto his pudgy belly and stretch in the sunshine.

Francis scampered to her lap. He took his usual seat on her knee and curled up into a ball. He promptly went back to sleep. There were no cats to keep him on his toes and he didn't need to scrounge or steal. Francis spent his days napping and sunning. Ella had checked his fur thoroughly several times to see if there was any evidence of his death but she couldn't see a thing. Her fairy godmother had made the mouse as good as new.

Not everyone has made the transition to their new stations in life quite as easily as Francis, though.

"Princess Ella," the Chancellor addressed her solemnly. The man had entered the turret with much pomp and circumstance as he always did. He was a small man with a huge mustache and beard that he liked to stroke as he spoke. It appeared that he was deep in contemplation about every topic. He was Prince Jonathan's advisor and so far, was very helpful. In fact, the Chancellor knew every single person in the town and how to get things accomplished. He was like having a fairy godmother but much more practical. "Ma'am, we have finally managed to make arrangements for your special visitor," he raised his eyebrows. The Chancellor had such good manners that he would have never spoken the words of what they were about to do out loud.

Ella kissed Francis on the head very softly and placed him back on his cushion. The Chancellor made a face, it was almost a look of disgust in spite of his impeccable manners. He clearly wasn't overly fond of the mice but again, was far too polite to say a word. "Can I see him?" Ella asked in a somber tone. She'd been fixated on this meeting for the last two days since the Chancellor had asked if there was anything that he could do for her.

The man stroked his beard thoughtfully and raised his eyebrows, "We counted on it, Princess."

She followed him down the stone staircase to a courtyard. Ella wasn't sure if she'd ever get used to being bowed and curtseyed to but Jonathan had said with a small kiss on her forehead that she was always to be fawned over now that she would be queen. He had added, "Besides, my love," he had told her with a sparkle in his eye, "you're far too beautiful to not acknowledge, title or not."

Ella nodded in return to the Lords and Ladies and Dukes and Duchesses. Once they were on the far side of the courtyard, out of sight, she sighed with relief. She hated to admit that she was nervous to see him. Her hands were cold and her stomach flipped as she pictured his face. It didn't seem to matter that their roles had reversed so greatly, every time she pictured his face, Ella felt her insides burn.