Cinderella: Bound for the Prince

by Powerone

  Her body molded to his as Lord Blankford did, but Prince Michael was bolder. There was no doubt of his growing excitement with her. She’d only felt the hardness of a man for the first time that night; now, it was another that shuddered beneath her touch. My toes had curled around Straparola’s prick, but what would it feel like if it were my fingers that did it to Prince Michael?

  Cinderella blushed as everyone looked at them glide across the dance floor. All the women looked at him with lust, but it was the men that stared boldly at her. No man had ever looked at her with such desire in their eyes.

  Michael wouldn’t let her go when the music stopped, and he brought her over to his table. Everyone was surprised by Ella, not a man or woman knew her. It was as if she appeared by some magic.

  Cinderella ate a lavish dinner with the prince. He refused to let her go. She drank too much champagne, unaccustomed to any alcohol, never mind one with bubbles in it. She was so entertained by him that she forgot all about the time. She looked at the clock, fifteen minutes before midnight.

  “I’ve enjoyed myself, Prince Michael, but I must leave.”

  “Please don’t,” he begged her.

  “I must.”

  “Then, will you join me next week. I have a select group of friends that meet once a month.”

  “And what do you do?”

  “They all seek the pleasures of life. It is men and women, all aristocrats like you. They’d love for you to join them.”

  There was something that he wasn’t telling her. “What is your group called?”

  “It’s the Hellfire Club.”

  “And what pleasures do they seek? Is it depraved pleasures that the members seek?”

  “One man’s depravity is another man’s pleasure. All the members bring in special guests.”

  “Am I a special guest?”

  “No, you’ll be a member like the others.”

  “I will come under one condition.” She had to hurry as time ran out.

  “Anything you desire, Ella.”

  “I want you to invite Elizabet, Lady Browning’s daughter.”

  “Is she a friend of yours?”

  “No,” Ella answered quickly.

  “As you wish. I’ll have a carriage pick you up.”

  “No, I’ll come in my carriage.” She wanted to be able to leave without notice if she had to. She wasn’t sure what the Hellfire Club was, but she had no doubt that Straparola would enlighten her. “I must go,” she said breathlessly. He leaned over and kissed her lips so softly. She froze, but she realized that she’d have problems that she couldn’t explain if she stayed any longer, though that is what she wanted to do. “Good night, Prince Michael.” She turned and ran from the ballroom.

  She got into the carriage and was outside the gates when it all went up in a puff of smoke. When it cleared, she was seated on the cold ground in her thread-bare dress. She had to walk miles to get home, but everyone was asleep as she snuck into her tiny room next to the kitchen. She could hardly sleep that night.

  * * * *

  Cinderella got up early because she knew that Lady Browning would be in a bad mood from last night when she was rebuffed by Prince Michael. She had coffee ready before she came down and started breakfast as soon as she heard footsteps.

  “Where’s my coffee,” Lady Browning yelled out before she sat down.

  “Here it is, Lady Browning.” She put the hot coffee in front of her. “Breakfast is almost ready,” stopping her before she could complain.

  “HHummph!” Lady Browning still snarled at her, but the breakfast smelled good.

  Cinderella rushed to the kitchen, and she brought the three dishes to the table as Elizabet and Mary sat down. “Did you have a good time at the ball last night?” She struggled not to smirk when she said it.

  “Of course, we did. Prince Michael couldn’t keep his eyes off Mary and Elizabet. His only problem is deciding which one he’d wed,” Lady Browning snarled loudly.

  “I heard he’s a handsome man.”

  “You heard correctly; now back to the kitchen and no more idle chatter from you.” She turned to Elizabet when Cinderella left the dining room. “Don’t you dare eat that bacon, you fat cow. No wonder the prince wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

  * * * *

  It was Lady Browning that answered the door that afternoon, but Cinderella snuck to the living room door so she could hear.

  “Can I help you?” There was a coachman at the door with an envelope in his hand. She could see the red wax seal on it.

  “I have an invitation for Lady Elizabet Browning from Prince Michael,” he said curtly.

  “I’ll take it.”

  “I must give it directly to her. Is she here?”

  “Yes, yes, if you insist. Wait here,” as she grumbled and stormed off, yet she felt proud that Elizabet got an invitation from Prince Michael. Maybe he noticed her after all.

  “Elizabet, come quickly. There’s a coachman with an invitation for you from Prince Michael.”

  “For me?” Elizabet was surprised, especially after the way her mother treated her.

  “Yes, what do you think I said? Come on now.” She was anxious to read it and the stupid coachman refused to give it to her.

  “I’m Lady Elizabet Browning.” The coachman stood there so majestically, representing Prince Michael.

  “Here, Lady Browning,” as he handed her the envelope and waited.

  “Thank you.” She saw that he stood there. “You may go.”

  “I’ve been instructed to wait for a replay. Prince Michael is anxious.”

  “Open it, Elizabet,” Lady Browning was dying of curiosity.

  She opened the dark blue envelope as she broke the red wax seal. Inside was an elegant card inscribed with gold. It was an invitation from Prince Michael to a special party next Monday night. A carriage would pick her up at seven. Dress was eloquent but fashionable. RSVP required. She looked at the coachman. “Tell Prince Michael I appreciate the invitation and I’d be delighted to attend.”

  Lady Browning snatched the card as the coachman left. She read it quickly. She turned to Elizabet. “How come he didn’t invite Mary or me?”

  “It’s only for me,” as she took back the invitation so she could save it forever in her chest. “I guess Prince Michael doesn’t see me as a fat hog.” It was the first time she ever talked back to her mother, but she deserved it.

  “I’ll have to find something fashionable for you to wear.” She hated to admit it, but she was proud of Elizabet. Prince Michael had done more than take notice of her.

  * * * *

  Every night after everyone was asleep; Cinderella would sneak of the house and go to the barn. She closed the door behind her and lit a single lamp. “Straparola.” She called out his name. She had a small dish of food with her to feed his hunger before she’d ask her favor. ” Straparola, Straparola.”

  It was Friday and she grew desperate. Has my fairy godfather deserted me? All she could think about was Prince Michael, and her dreams grew more vivid, more sexual, yet she didn’t understand what he’d told her of his special parties. She needed Straparola to explain it. She also needed clothes and the carriage. She couldn’t let Prince Michael see her as she was.

  “Straparola, Straparola.”

  She never heard the door creek or open, but the wind blew on the lantern, and when she looked up, he stood there in front of her. There stood the shaggily dressed beggar.

  “You called me, Cinderella?” He saw the plate of food she had next to her. “Is that for me? I’m starving.”

  “Yes,” she handed it to him, and he took it and it was only minutes before he finished it all with a deep belch. “Thank you for coming when I called you. I was worried; you didn’t answer me for the last few days and I grew desperate.”

  “Thank you for the food. Why were you desperate, you have until Monday?”

  “How do you know?” He couldn’t know that, no one but Prince Michael and she knew of the
invitation.

  “I’m your fairy godfather. How can I protect and help you unless I know everything. I know you barely made it out of the prince’s castle before midnight, in spite of my warning.”

  “Yes, it was difficult to leave Prince Michael.”

  “Heed my warnings, or he’ll see you as you are before he is completely infatuated with you.”

  “Yes, I will, Straparola, thank you for taking such good care of me. Can you do it again on Monday?” Her eyes pleaded with him. If he was her fairy godfather, it would be no problem.

  “There’ll be no problem with the carriage on Monday. But, are you sure you know what you are getting into, Cinderella?”

  “That is why I need your advice and guidance, Straparola. Tell me about the Hellfire Club.” She was sure that he knew about it.

  “The Hellfire Club was started over a hundred years ago by the king at that time. The elite members of the aristocracy started a secret society where they could indulge in the pleasures of the flesh. It is not only for men, but also women, many of them wives of the members.”

  “What of the special guests?”

  “You mean like Elizabet?”

  “Yes. Like Elizabet.” He knew that, too.

  “The members not only indulge in carnal desires with each other, but the special guests bring fresh, young, nubile bodies. Many of the special guests are ignorant of the reason for the parties, but they soon learn that they are powerless to resist what happens to them. The aristocrats are too powerful to deny them their God-given rights, so they submit. Some are brought by deceit and revenge, as in the case of Elizabet.”

  “I know I shouldn’t have done that,” Cinderella was ashamed at what she did.

  “You shouldn’t be ashamed, Cinderella. I’m proud of what you did. The Browning’s have treated you worse than a servant, more like a slave. They deserve everything that they’ll get. I hope the other two also receive your wrath.”

  He’s right. She’d been treated as a slave, and they deserved it. She no longer felt the guilt, and she’d make sure that Prince Michael shamed Elizabet in the most public way. She still wasn’t sure of what happened at the parties; for her sexual experience was limited to what she saw others indulge in. “Explain to me in more details of the parties.”

  “Everything and anything happens at them. The women are spanked and whipped for the pleasure of the men to watch, often stroking their pricks at the women’s anguish. The women are bound in the most degrading and revealing positions as their bodies are stripped naked to be on display. They are taken in all of their orifices by men and women, often in concert with others for multiple penetrations.” He saw the shocked look on her face.

  That was more than she could fathom. How could the women do such things, but Cinderella knew that many, like Elizabet, would have no choice. They would be taken sexually, but also whipped and spanked. How could anyone get pleasure in that manner? She looked up as Straparola stood up, but in the dim light, he’d changed once again. He was dressed in a black suit with crisp pleats and a white shirt. He was clean shaven and even his smell had improved, the scent of cologne filled the barn. Next to him was a large wooden chair, just like the one in the dining room, but it wasn’t there minutes ago.

  “Stand up, Cinderella.” He sat down in the chair as he waited for her.

  She stood up as if she was commanded by the king himself. Straparola sat there, his hands out in front of him. She walked next to him and knew that his hands would take possession of her body. She shivered when she heard those words, but she didn’t know if it was fear or lust.

  “Lay across my lap, Cinderella.”

  She didn’t ask him why; she obeyed without question. She knew that he’d get his pleasure from her in some way. That was her payment for his help, but she knew it was more than that. He was teaching her the ways of men. She felt his hand on her back as she slowly bent over his body. The hand slid down farther, caressing her backside as her hair fell down in front of her onto the hay on the floor. The blood rushed to her head as she was bent over. She felt something hard beneath her when she squirmed on his lap as his hand became bolder on her backside. Her feet dangled off one side and her head the other. Her backside was pushed up prominently, and his hand rested on her uncomfortably. It was difficult for her to get comfortable in such a position, squirming on his lap. As she did, she could feel his erection slide back and forth across her mound. His prick had come alive beneath her.

  Straparola let her squirm on his lap, feeling so much pleasure as she rubbed his prick. The more she squirmed, the better it felt. He knew that she could make him cum without touching him with her hands, but he knew that if he spanked her, she’d move more urgently and his pleasure would increase exponentially. That is what made spanking so erotic and pleasurable.

  She finally stopped moving, though she regretted it. His prick stopped moving, though it was hard as a rock beneath her. If only she could move just a bit and get it to rub her quim. His hand slid up her naked leg and sent shivers between her legs. She was shocked when his hand hit one of her buttocks, and she yelped loudly. It burned more than she expected.

  Straparola moved his hand to her other buttock, caressing it first before he slapped it hard. This time, she expected it, though he still got a soft cry from her lips. He rubbed the spot for a moment.

  Her backside was rocked with two sharp slaps, and her flesh began to burn and tingle in pain. His hand continued to caress her, lulling her into a false sense of security before he lashed out again and slapped her buttocks with more powerful blows. He kept this up for long minutes until she was left breathless and whimpering.

  His hand slowly grabbed the edge of her dress and pulled it up. He made sure that she felt his finger touch her naked flesh as he drew it up her legs until he began to expose the beginning of her buttocks. He neatly pulled the dress above her buttocks and folded it on her back. Her white undergarments were worn and tattered as he began to explore her buttocks once again, this time only her undergarments protected her, but not for long.

  His hands took liberties with her backside, running over the heated and sore flesh. His fingers rubbed the edges of her undergarment and shamed her with her near nakedness. Even in the dim barn, lit only by a single lantern, she was sure that she was exposed vulgarly. She felt a rush of the cold night air on her bottom when he plucked open one side of her undergarment to expose her naked backside. She felt her undergarment grow tight over her body as he manipulated it to pull the fabric taut against her quims lips. Her muffled cry of anguish rang out as she wriggled once again, setting his prick into spasms of pleasure beneath her quim. She went from pain in her backside, to another type of heat that built up between her legs. He continued to pull the fabric of her undergarment back and forth to tease her quim. She should feel shame and pain from what he did, but her quim was soaked. He stopped yanking her undergarment, but then, he pulled it toward the center until it was wedged between the sharp divide of her back. She waited breathlessly to see what he’d do next when she felt a sharp slap on her buttock and it was more intense. He’d found naked skin to attack, and it burned furiously. He ran his fingers over the soft flesh that he’d just attacked, but Cinderella felt something else. With her undergarments pushed between her cheeks and up tightly against her quim, each blow made her jerk and rub his prick, but it also aroused her when her undergarments rubbed her as if it were her fingers.

  Straparola heard her gasps as he continued to slap her naked buttocks, but her sharp cries of pain were now soft moans. His hand went from slapping her flesh, to caressing her, running his finger along her crack, all the way down until he touched close to her quim. There was no mistaking the wetness on her undergarments. “Spread your legs open for me, Cinderella.”

  The words sounded so obscene, yet she found herself growing wet as the pain went away to be replaced with something much different. Her body was on edge, trying to anticipate the pain or pleasure, but now, they both brought the same re
sults. She tried to move on his lap and obey his command, but all she did was make his prick jerk in such excitement. She felt his fingers between her legs pinch the soft flesh of her thighs, and when she jerked in pain, his hand pushed between her thighs and pawed them open by sheer force. “AAAHHH!” She cried out loudly when his hand slipped between her legs and she felt his fingers pinch her quim with such authority. Her backside jerked up, but then, she settled back down onto his prick.

  He slapped her naked buttocks four times until they turned red, but then, his hand slid between her spread thighs to find her wet quim and trace his fingers along the soft, wet flesh. Her moans grew louder. “Be still,” he warned her.

  She clenched her hands into fists as she bit her lips to contain her lust. She tried to stay still, but his questing finger sent a thrill through her body that she couldn’t contain. Then, he deserted her quim and spanked her naked buttocks with two sharp slaps, but her cry wasn’t of pain. His hand found her quim and rubbed her lightly, but that wasn’t what she wanted. “Harder, Straparola,” she begged.

  He was pleased with her response as his fingers gripped the wet lips of her quim. He knew she was a virgin, so he wouldn’t enter her, but that wouldn’t stop him from pleasuring her. She began to move violently, not sure if she wanted to rub herself or him, but he felt the pleasure as she humped his excited prick.

  Cinderella didn’t know what caused it, the pain, the pleasure or the constant rubbing and shame of being spanked and masturbated in front of him. She thrashed about on his lap as she felt her orgasm race through her body. She trembled and moaned as she rubbed against his fingers and prick until she crested and her body jerked in tiny spasms. His prick rose up and rubbed her in just the right way when another wave of an orgasm hit her, this one rolled gently over her body. Her body finally lay exhausted over his, spent from his expert fingers.

  He helped her up, but then, he got up and let her sit in the chair. He stood in front of her, and she couldn’t help but notice the large bulge in his trousers. It was in front of her face so prominently.

  “Open up my trousers and take out my prick, Cinderella.” His words were precise.