The Grimm Brothers perpetuated a mythic fairy tale that depicted a down-trodden teenager who was magically transported into a life of romance, royal living, and happiness when her prince finally fell in love with her. Ancient documents have now come to light that tell a different story:
Once upon a time, there was a sexy young woman who lived in the large city of Lushdon. Her mother had died giving birth to her, as she berated the young woman’s father for getting her up the duff. Her father died a few years thereafter, due to an excess of nagging decades and the loss of the will to live when he realised he would have to explain to his daughter about menstruation and take her for her first bra fitting. Shortly before his death, he had married a money-grabbing Evil Stepmother, who arrived complete with two bitchy daughters, as Evil Stepmothers usually do.
Since the young woman’s father had died penniless after drinking away his fortune in an attempt to blot out the maddening moaning of the womanly household, the Evil Stepmother and her two daughters decided that they would make the young woman’s life a misery.
They called her the rudest names, ordered her around, forced her to cook every meal, clean the house, muck out the pig pen, strip naked and cover herself in soot and ashes, after which she had to lick their genitals and fuck them using strap-on dildos whilst hanging upside down from the low-hanging beams in the ceiling of their mock-fairytale cottage (which was actually a six-bedroomed town house with four bathrooms and a Jacuzzi spring in the back garden).
Dear Reader, I know what you are thinking. In Lushdon, nobody is allowed to be forced to fuck anybody in any way. But this young woman was actually a bit of deviant with whoreish tastes and inclinations. Indeed, Cinderella (remember the naked ashes thing?) enjoyed the process of throwing down her Evil Stepmother and Stepsisters onto the floor and shagging them senseless with a variety of implements so much, that she decided she’d stay and see how long she could tire them out for. So far, she had shagged them so senseless that she’d managed to go on holiday with four local stable boys for two weeks, and still made it back for the clean-up.
One day, the King of Lushdon, who was a narrow-minded, bigoted idiot, and in denial of his son, Roger the Prince, being a homosexual, decided to throw him a lavish masquerade ball so that he could choose himself a (female) bride. However, the King was not all that much of a fuddy-duddy, and he allowed Roger the Prince the freedom to choose his own theme. The King and Queen would stay in an inn on the night of the party, so that the youngsters could enjoy themselves.
And so it happened that, in the middle of a session involving the Evil Stepmother, a flyswatter and a pineapple, Cinderella was rudely interrupted from the throes of a power-wielding dominatrix fantasy, by a very loud trumpet blast.
“That was a hell of a fanny fart, you little slut,” exclaimed the Evil Stepmother.
“That wasn’t a fanny fart,” replied Cinderella, withdrawing the strap-on purple sparkly dildo from the Evil Stepmother’s vagina. “That’s a messenger from the King.”
And she ran willy-nilly down the stairs with the dildo flapping up and down and her firm, luscious breasts jiggling. Flinging open the door before the Stepsisters could, she seized the message from the messenger’s stunned grasp, and read aloud:
“Thou art hereby invited to mine Ball of Bondage at the Palace Royale. King Father has decreed that I must findeth mineself an fucking missus, so you are all commanded to cum dressed in hardly anything so that I mayest ogle thine bottoms and boobies. Oh, and only the Sexiest People are allowedeth in.
Yours Hoping for Jackanapes,
Roger the Prince.”
“Ooooo,” cooed one of the Stepsisters. “Do you think Jackanapes will be there? He’s ever so handsome.”
“I hope his brother, Jackanory, is there too,” sighed the other Stepsister. “What a wonderful view. Especially naked…” And they both traipsed off to their bedrooms to look at all the clothes they would not be wearing to the Ball of Bondage.
“I suppose you think you’re going, you little slut,” sneered the Evil Stepmother to Cinderella.
“Not at all,” replied Cinderella. “I have no doubt that Roger the Prince will not find me attractive whatsoever, and there will be lots of women there. What I’d much prefer is a fuck from a man, not a pseudo-lesbian like the three I live with, who only have fanny fun because they can’t find a real cock to shag them.”
“I shall spank you for that, you little whore,” gasped the Evil Stepmother.
“Yes please!” And Cinderella bent over for her punishment.
Sadly for Cinderella, the Evil Stepmother decided that since Cinderella seemed to enjoy the idea so much, she would not spank her after all, and flounced off to decide which of her crotchless panties would be most suitable for the Ball of Bondage.
The day of the Ball of Bondage dawned. There was much simpering and giggling from the Evil Stepmother and Stepsisters, and chatter over who would be able to “turn” Roger the Prince straight. Cinderella helped them to lube up and strap down their looser flaps of flesh, and waved goodbye as they left in a llama-drawn carriage to the Palace Royale.
Sighing, and daydreaming of a good, hard fuck, Cinderella sat in front of the window eating popcorn as she watched the people of Lushdon wobble past in various bits of leather, latex, and stainless steel.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
“Who the fucking hell is it?” yelled Cinderella.
“Mmmfffpphh!” came the muffled reply.
Grumpily putting down the bowl, and taking her time, Cinderella shuffled over to the door, letting the visitor wait. She opened the door, and stared out at the large-framed hairy man in a neon-pink tutu and a gimp mask with the mouth zipped up.
“What the bloody hell have you come as?” she demanded.
“Mmmfffpphh!” he said.
“What?”
He unzipped the mouth zip.
“I’m your Fairy Gimpmother, and you shall go to the ball!”
“To be honest,” she said, “I can’t really be arsed.”
“That’s the point!” he replied. “If you go to the ball, you will get arsed. You’ll get a proper shag and everything!”
“Well, why didn’t you say so, you fucking gimp!” And Cinderella allowed the Fairy Gimpmother to enter the house.
After a lot of swearing, sweating and wriggling, Cinderella was ready! Dressed in nothing but some leather straps crossed over and under her luscious breasts so they stood out more, and arranged in criss-crosses over her pertly plump bottom, with a laced latex waist cincher, and thigh-high leather boots, Cinderella was nearly ready.
“Mmmfffpphh!” mumbled the Fairy Gimpmother, whose mouth had been zipped once more after he suggested a metal-studded dog collar that didn’t really go with the cincher.
“For fuck’s sake,” sighed Cinderella, unzipping his mask. “What is it now?”
“There’s one thing missing,” he said. And from thin air, he produced the most beautiful, shining double-ended glass dildo that had ever been seen in Lushdon. Ever.
“Wow!” cried Cinderella. “That’s a fucking beauty!”
“I know,” said the Fairy Gimpmother. “Now bend over whilst I insert it.”
“Talk about Grand Entrances,” said Cinderella, sticking her arse in the air. The Fairy Gimpmother slathered Cinderella’s anus with a glittering lube, and gently penetrated her with the double-ended glass dildo.
“Fuck me,” said Cinderella.
“Fairy Gimpmothers aren’t allowed to fuck the clients,” said the Fairy Gimpmother.