Cinderella: An Erotic Fairy Tale

By alternately standing and crouching, she began to fuck the Prince properly. As she rode, Seth's head continuously disappeared down her throat and then burst back up from her mouth, gleaming wetly; meanwhile its shaft did more or less the same thing, down between her straining thighs, only in reverse. She knew, because she held one hand at each end to stroke Seth's slick skin as it came and went. Faster and faster she pumped, her whole body now a throbbing cunny, thrilling to the feel of the fat thing sliding, so very snugly, right through her.

The Prince began to rave, tearing open his brocade jacket and silk shirt, together, the buttons rattling everywhere. He certainly seemed to be enjoying their game, and she knew she was. She wished the boys back home could see her now. And then she realized that a part of her was still forming lucid thoughts, even through all the endless, fantastic orgasms. She could never manage that before, and the idea pleased her, though she was in no position to engage in pillow talk.

When at last the Prince began to cum, it started with a gurgle in his throat that warned of a thrusting drive of his hips, and then, as he pushed his body upward, it became a hard pulse that travelled up Seth's long shaft, up through her belly and her chest and her throat and her mouth until it burst into the air in a fountain above her face. Spurt after spurt blasted up and then rained back down on to her. None ran down her throat – her lips were stretched to form a tight seal around the protruding cock. The bit of her that could still think decided that this moonlit geyser was a beautiful sight, even as her own total body orgasm - her biggest ever - began to careen up and down her magical cunny.

And then the clock began to strike midnight ...

Outside the palace gates, a shiny black coach collapsed into a pumpkin, and a handful of mice skittered off for home with two kittens in hot pursuit. All else that remained, oddly, was a gaudy pile of clothing. Bertrand the Beggar happened to be working nearby, and found that one of the stylish warm jackets fit him admirably. As for the rat brothers, they had spent the evening cheating at dice, and had fleeced all the other drivers and footmen out of a considerable sum before sauntering off to look for more entertainment. Remarkably quickly, they had encountered a Lady of Negotiable Affection, whose specialty was rough love. When the clock tower had begun striking midnight they'd been engaged in an act involving the Lady being held horizontally in the air whilst entertaining a brother at each end. At the last stroke, there was a popping sound and a voice saying (appropriately), "Oh, bugger."

She promptly found herself lying dazed on two pair of butter-soft leather boots. She missed the departure of several disgruntled vermin, because she was also covered by a heap of gear - satin and velvet clothing, belts and slings, silver decorated swords and daggers, plus several stout ebony truncheons. And, most importantly, gold – gold buttons, gold buckles, and gold-filled purses. She looked around for Tony, who was a Gentleman Who Protects and Lives off the Avails of Ladies of Negotiable Affection. He was nowhere to be seen, and while her clients had fucked like bunnies, she was almost sure she had seen scaly tails in the torchlight, and she had for some time been concerned that they might rob her or hurt her (more than had been contractually agreed). While she was not surprised that they had stiffed her in the end, so to speak, she had not expected them to vanish quite so literally.

Muttering darkly about Tony, she surveyed the goods they had seemingly left behind in their haste, and began to pile the loot onto one of the ermine-fringed cloaks. Then she hefted one of the truncheons, savouring its lovely balance, and decided it was time to terminate her contract with Tony. With the proceeds from this lot she could set up as a Courtesan, or even open her own house. As she hurried into the night, she pictured the sign over the door - 'Glenna's House of Discipline'.

As for Cindy, when the last chime echoed around the empty room, she felt her lovely dress fade away to nothing under the Prince's questing hands. She began to struggle, hopelessly trying to free herself, and then she realized that nothing else had happened. Her ragged old dress hadn't come back, and so probably neither had the dirt, and she knew that Seth was still hard, so nothing else really mattered. She started to fuck the Prince's cum-soaked pole some more – stand, crouch, stand, crouch - until she started to tire. But then, the Prince helped her out. He shifted his grip back to her middle, taking her weight in his powerful arms, and began to slide her up and down. Thankful for the rest, Cindy opened her legs wide. Her heels bounced on the padded arms of the chair, until one of her slippers flew off, and so she folded her knees up to keep her feet clear.

The Prince seemed to take this as a signal, ramming her bottom down hard into his lap. As he became more and more excited, he started to twist her around Seth, as though he was trying to screw her into place. That gave her a whole new variety of lovely sensations, although her view was still mostly up. After several full rotations, the Prince began to tremble. Inside, she felt the now familiar pulses as he came again. As his first load was coursing up through her, she reached up over her head and wrapped her hands around Seth's fat bulk - just in time to feel the surge pass under her palms. Again, the glorious flood shot high in the air above her, and gracefully arced back to splash hotly on her skin. And again her body answered, clenching Seth tightly inside as a huge orgasm rocked her. Even in the midst of this latest passion, she could feel the warm rivulets of spunk as they trickled down her bare breasts and belly, and were funnelled over her burning clit.

Luckily, after that Seth softened enough for her to tip forward. She lay in the Prince's arms, too tired to continue. Seth nuzzled her cheek as she dozed, and then shrank back down her throat the way it had come. As soon as she was able, Cindy dropped her head back down, tucking it against the Prince's shoulder and nodding off.

She woke the next morning to find herself curled up, still naked, on the Prince's bare lap. He in turn was sitting on a plush and sticky royal throne. She looked into his sleeping face. He wore a dreamy smile, and in the daylight he was just as handsome as she had expected. Clearly she and the Prince were well suited for each other. She tried to imagine how things would have gone if she had somehow managed to run away at midnight. Not much differently, she guessed. The Prince would probably have announced that he would marry anyone who could fit the royal third leg, and certainly no one but her would have been brave enough to try it out - except possibly her stupid stepsisters.

Briefly, she considered them. They weren't completely worthless. They might make passable scullery maids. Or, perhaps there was a brothel in the city that specialized in whips and bondage, that sort of thing. And then she felt the Prince's royal yard stir, high inside her belly. Seth was waking. She tried an experimental cunny squeeze, by way of saying good morning. Prince Al blinked awake, and Seth responded immediately. It was like a puppy's tail was wagging inside of her, except for the part where it was also starting to stretch and grow again. By concentrating, she found she could squeeze and knead it all along its considerable length, which it obviously liked. It was already working its way up into her chest, and she just had time to work the kinks out of her neck before it was sliding back up her throat.

'Here we go again', she thought, and smiled happily just before Seth burst back out from between her lips. With her head forced back, again, her gaze was drawn up to a sudden swirl of fairy dust sparkling brightly in the sunlight high over her head. She waved up at it. Yes, she decided, even if she had bolted, there would have been a happy ending.

The End.

Author's disclaimer: All actors in this story are consenting, human, non-magical adults. They are all above the age of majority in your community, and all are of drinking age. Those who require it have carriage-driving certificates. In some jurisdictions, certain of the acts depicted (including gambling and thaumaturgy) may be taken as having been simulated.

Finally, the author advises that you do NOT read this story aloud to your children at bedtime – unless they are adults, which conjures images the author refuses to contemplate further.