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Subject: Revised RP: Cinderella (many thanks to Commander Jameson :)
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		CINDERELLA	

 		by C. Wilson

		
	The young woman gazed miserably at her 
reflection in the large mirror, wondering sadly
why she had been born so ugly and so stupid.  
Cindy wasn't allowed to have a mirror of her own,
so she sometimes snuck into her stepmother's 
bedroom to look at herself in when no one was 
around.  She hated the sight of her reflection,
because it reminded her that no man would ever
love her.  But, she still looked, hoping against
hope that through some miracle she would someday
change and become desirable, or at least not ugly.
	Cindy wasn't allowed to go into her 
stepmother's room.  If she was discovered, she
would surely be punished.  She knew better, and
she was here anyway.  To her, that only served as
proof of her stupiditiy.
	Her blue eyes moved over her wretched body, 
its many faults barely hidden by her loose and 
tattered housedress.  She unbuttoned her blouse
and bared her chest, gazing miserably at her 
breasts.  Her stepsisters were always teasing and
taunting her about them, saying how men liked 
huge, saggy melons like theirs, not round little
peaches like hers.  She tried to hide them, but
they were too firm and even stayed up without a
brassiere.
	Cindy closed her blouse and looked down at 
her middle.  Her waist was thin, not a thick and 
fleshy cushion like her stepmother said that 
wealthy men preferred to rest their heads on.  
She also said that any worthwhile men would be
repulsed by Cindy's too-wide hips and tight 
rear end.  That wasn't all, there were a hundred
other things wrong with her. Her legs were too
long, her skin was too fair, and her lips were
too full.  Her stepmother and stepsisters reminded
her of her flaws often, and Cindy was grateful for
their honesty.  Otherwise, she might embarass 
herself in front of strangers by not staying 
properly out of sight when her stepmother 
entertained company.
	She pulled up the hem of her dress and 
looked at her shameful womanhood.  Even if a man 
could somehow ignore her other faults and take 
her to his bed,  he would find her thin triangle 
of curly blond hair pathetic.  And she feared 
that her chubby little slit was far too tight to 
give a man any pleasure.  She had often seen her 
stepsisters naked as she drew their baths.  
Their mounds were covered in a thick forest of 
dark hair, and their sex lips were large and 
loose, not delicate and firm like hers.
	Sometimes they would play with themselves
in front of her, rubbing their sexes in the warm 
water so that the lips would open and move back 
and forth.  Then they would put three or four 
fingers inside themselves or each other, and 
move on them until they cried out in pleasure.  
Once, for a reason she couldn't explain, she had 
reached under the water and stroked her sister 
Roberta's furry opening, marveling at the slippery 
softness of it.  Roberta had cursed at her for 
her boldness, but she had rubbed herself against 
Cindy's hand and called her foul names until she 
shuddered and moaned.
	It had pleased her to give her stepsister 
pleasure, though Roberta still treated her 
cruelly.  But then, it was what she deserved.  
She was lucky that her stepmother had taken her 
in after her poor father died.  Her stepmother 
and stepsisters were all she had, and though 
they were strict and demanding sometimes, she 
still loved them.
	"What are you doing in here?!"  
	Cindy cringed at the shrill, angry voice.
She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't
heard her stepmother enter.
	"You know that you are not to come in
here without permission, you stupid little 
cunt!"
	"I'm sorry, stepmother," she whimpered, 
falling to her knees.  "I didn't mean any harm.  
Please forgive me!"
	"I'll forgive you, all right," her 
stepmother said coldly, "after you've been 
punished."
	Of all the hurtful things that she sometimes 
did, Cindy hated her stepmother's punishment the 
most.  She grabbed Cindy by the hair and yanked 
her to her feet, then pulled her down the steps 
into the dark cellar.  She threw Cindy against 
the hard stone wall and snapped the cold pair of 
iron shackles around her wrists.  Despite 
herself, Cindy shrieked as her stepmother ripped 
her already torn housedress off, leaving the 
young woman naked and shivering in the damp 
chill.
	"That's right, you little bitch!  Scream!" 
She lit a candle and placed it on a small table by
the stairs.  Cindy's eyes fell to the wide leather
crop that was lying there.  Her stepmother lifted
it up and smiled sadistically.  
	"Remember this?  Last time it turned your 
shameful little ass red for days!  Let's see what
it can do this time!"  Cindy shut her eyes tightly,
helplessly awaiting the first blow.

	That night, Cindy fell limply onto her 
small, hard cot.  She lay on her stomach and 
sobbed until her tears dried up.  She was in 
agony.  Her stepmother had flogged her 
mercilessly until she had almost passed out.  
Her whole backside was raw, and hurt unbearably.  
A tiny part of her knew that this was wrong, 
that her stepmother and stepsisters were horrible
and bad.  But a larger part had come to believe
that it was *her* that was bad, that she must 
have done something terribly wrong, and whatever
it was, she deserved to be punished and tortured
for it.
	She had to think of something to take her 
mind off the pain.  Oddly enough, she began 
thinking about what her sisters did in the bath. 
Cindy always found it oddly fascinating. She 
would often look on curiously as they writhed and 
gasped on each other's probing fingers, seeming 
not to care that she was watching them.  It was
even more exciting when one would crawl over the 
other and kiss her between the thighs.  Sometimes
they even intertwined and kissed at the same 
time, licking and sucking at each other's sex
until they both collapsed in exhaustion.
	Once, Cindy had tried touching her own 
womanhood in bed, trying to reach the same
shuddering pleasure that her sisters did.  She
didn't, though it had felt very good to stroke
herself like that.  The lips of her sex had 
gotten all hot and swollen, and she had been 
ashamed at how wet she had become.  She had also
tried putting her fingers inside herself, but she
could barely fit two inside her tight little 
opening.  As she started moving them she had been
surprised to feel her tunnel start squeezing down
around her fingers, clutching them almost 
rythmically.  That had embarrassed her somewhat, 
but it had also felt very nice.
	 As Cindy lay there thinking, she was 
surprised to feel a heat growing between her
legs.  She gingerly slid a hand beneath her and
through her soft little grassland of hair, 
gasping when her fingers inadvertently brushed
something at the top of her moist slit.  She had
never thought to touch there, and as she explored
with her fingertips, she was amazed to find a 
stiff little button had emerged from somewhere
inside her.  Touching it felt so good it almost
hurt, and she stroked it gently with her slick
fingers, feeling her nipples stiffening and
pressing into the bed.  Her head was swimming
and she was having trouble breathing.  She was
confused and a little frightened by her body's
strange reactions, but it felt far too good to
stop.
	Suddenly, an intense tingle began 
spreading out from her sex, getting stronger and
stronger and stronger until somewhere a dam burst, 
sending hot and cold waves of incredible ecstasy 
rolling over her body.  She went rigid, the pain 
from her tortured backside mingling with the 
pleasure and adding to the already mind-numbing 
explosion. She had never known such an intense 
and delightful feeling, and she heard herself 
making odd moaning noises in her throat as she 
shivered and shook on her cot.
	She slowly came back to herself, feeling 
detached and weightless. The pain from her 
backside had lessened, and her body was very 
relaxed.  For the first time in years, Cindy 
drifted off to sleep with a smile on her lips.

			*

	At first, Roland hadn't thought much of
being appointed a messenger for the Royal Ball,
but as  he began his duties, he was starting to
think that it was the best thing that had ever 
happened to him.  His task was simple:  he was 
required to go from house to house and seek out 
only the most attractive young women to give a 
Royal Invitation to.  He had been surprised and 
also rather pleased to find how badly many 
fathers wanted their daughters to go.  They all 
knew that the Prince was to choose his bride 
from among the hundreds of young women that 
would be attending, and many weren't about to 
miss a chance at marrying off their daughters 
into the royal family.  He had been offered 
almost anything in return for handing out an 
invitation, and some offers had been too good to 
pass up.  Money; jewels; livestock; he had lost 
count of how many bribes he had been offered.  
	That very morning, one young redhead had 
even offered him her body.  Even though she was 
rather pretty and he had been going to present her 
with an invitation anyway, he had pretended that 
he wasn't quite convinced that she was suitable.  
It was often amusing to see some of the things that 
people would do to try and convince him, but the
redhead's parents had been away, so she took it 
upon herself to prove her worth.
	He had been almost ready to end the playing 
and give her the invitation when she suddenly 
hiked up her gown, revealing her young copper 
haired mound to his stunned eyes.  She continued 
to strip off her clothes until she was standing 
completely naked in front of him, her pale 
breasts and skin so inviting that they almost 
glowed.
	"Don't you find me attractive?" She 
purred softly as she ran her hands over her thighs
in a very tantalizing manner.
	"Indeed I do," he replied, staring as 
she turned around slowly and wiggled her firm 
ass at him in an invitation of her own.  He felt 
his manhood stirring, and quickly decided that 
it wouldn't hurt to do a thorough examination of 
the girl, just to make sure she was suitable.  
After all, it was his royal duty.  He quickly 
stepped forward and palmed the cheeks of her 
round and creamy ass.  She pressed her buttocks
against his hands, and he felt obliged to squeeze
and knead them, testing their softness and 
resilience.  He spread the globes apart and 
caught a glimpse of her valley, the pink lips 
already beginning to gleam with moisture.
	"You have the body of a goddess," he 
declared sincerely, seeing a pleased smile 
flash across her face.  He let go of her ass and 
ran his hands up her slender hips and around her 
waist, sliding them upward until they cupped her 
bouncy tits, the nipples quickly hardening 
against his sweaty palms.  She was pushing back
against him, slowly grinding her ass against his 
straining erection.  She was a feisty one, all 
right.  He couldn't wait any longer. He 
unhooked his belt, letting his breeches fall to 
the floor.  His member popped out eagerly, and 
he pushed her forward at the shoulders so that 
she placed her hands on the edge of the living
room table. She was now bent over nicely, and he 
wasted no time in guiding his penis into the wet
and swollen opening nestled between the fleshy
split of her full buttocks.
	"Oh my God," he groaned, as his throbbing 
cock slid easily between her slippery labia and 
into her hot tunnel.  He lost himself in her 
gloriously clinging pussy, holding on to her 
hips desperately as he pumped himself in and out 
of her with long, hard strokes.  She moaned with 
every thrust, her ass cheeks slapping against 
his pelvis as he fucked her willing young body 
with everything he had.
	All too soon, he felt his balls rumble and 
the delicious pressure rise in his thrusting 
shaft.  He grabbed her by the waist and slid in 
deep, grunting in ecstasy as his cock twitched 
and spewed his hot seed into her belly.  
	He emptied himself inside her, then pulled 
out and collapsed in a chair, exhausted.  The 
redhead knelt in front of him and smiled as she 
took his softening member into her mouth, 
cleaning him of her juices and his sperm.  Her 
eyes were closed, so he took her hand and pulled 
a sealed invitation from his satchel and pressed 
it into her palm.  She looked up, then an 
expression of pure joy crossed her face.  She 
sank down on his half-hard cock, taking it all 
the way into her throat.  He looked down at her 
sucking lips and almost fell in love, but he had 
to go.  He pulled up his breeches.
	"Good day, Milady, and thank you for your 
most gracious hospitality," he said, bowing 
deeply.  He left with a grin.
	He had less than a half dozen invitations 
left, and there was only a few houses in town 
that he had yet to visit.  He knocked on the 
door of one, which was opened by a overweight 
gray-haired woman with a sour expression.
	"Yes?"  She snapped looking him up and down 
suspiciously like he was a beggar.
	"Greetings, madam," He began.  "I am Roland, 
messenger for the court of Prince Edward.  I..." 
she grabbed him by the arm.
	"Come in, come in!"  She led him inside, 
slamming the door after them.  "I'm so glad to 
meet you, Sir Roland," she said, taking his 
hand, trying to appear coy and motherly at the 
same time and failing miserably at both.  "My 
daughters have been very anxious to meet you!  
Here, have a seat while I run and fetch them."  
She plopped him down forcibly in a chair and 
scurried off.  He sighed and looked around him,
quickly noticing the utter spotlessness of the
room.  Someone here must take great pains to
clean this place, he thought idly, and judging
by the look of her, he doubted that the old 
witch had ever mopped a floor in her life.
	"Roberta!  Patricia!" she was calling 
screechily from the hall. "Come see who's here!"
	Roland never knew what to expect, but the 
two plump, dark-haired young women who appeared 
in the doorway were very plain, if not ugly.  It 
was obvious that they had expected him, for they 
were dressed in formal gowns and their faces 
were caked with many layers of gaudy cosmetics.  
He suppressed a shudder.
	"Well?"  The mother asked expectantly, a 
dangerous gleam in her eye.  "Aren't they 
beautiful?"  Roland found himself wishing he had 
stayed at the friendly redhead's house and never 
set foot in this one, spotless as it may be.
	"Um, yes," he said hesitantly, "of course."  
He thought quickly.  "But, to be eligible for an 
invitation, a young lady must be more than merely
beautiful, she must have a certain ... quality."
	The mother's eyes narrowed.  "And," she said 
menacingly, "do my lovely daughters possess that 
certain quality?"
	Roland looked at the pair, pretending to 
consider.  "Hmm, well.  It's not always an easy 
thing to tell, but I have an impression that 
your, ahh, lovely daughters do indeed have 
something more to them than meets the eye."  He 
hoped so, for their sake and his.  If he could 
find just one redeeming quality, he would be
justified in giving them invitations. Otherwise, 
he would lose his job, and possibly his head for 
wasting the prince's time on such an important 
occasion.  "Do they have any skills?"  He asked.  
"Music?  Dance?  Knitting?"
	The woman smiled wryly.  He didn't like
what that might mean.  "Roberta, Patricia, show 
Sir Roland some of your 'skills'."  The pair 
giggled and walked up to him, and he looked on in
shock as they both dropped to their knees and 
reached for his cock.
	"Wait!" he protested, inching away as far as 
he could in the chair.  "This is not how things 
are done!"
	"Don't worry," the woman smirked,  as her 
daughters yanked his trousers down.  "They are 
very good, if not the best.  I schooled them 
myself."
	He grimaced and closed his eyes as they went 
to work on his flaccid penis.  To his surprise, 
he felt his cock begin to rise under their 
insistant licking and sucking.  He had to admit, 
they *were* good.  As he swelled to full size, 
they took turns swallowing his shaft all the way 
to his balls, even flicking their tongues 
underneath the base of his aching manhood and
licking his testicles while he was buried in 
their throats.  One even stuck her finger into 
his asshole and wriggled it around as she sucked
him.  Despite the fact that he had drained his 
balls less than half an hour before, he felt his 
member swelling, about to release another 
torrent.  One of them, was it Patricia?  He 
wasn't sure, but she wrapped her lips around the 
base of his penis and convulsed her throat 
muscles around his shaft, driving him almost mad 
with pleasure.  His seed instantly erupted 
forth, and she swallowed every drop.
	They sat back and wiped their lips, smiling 
girlishly even though they had just taken his 
cock in their mouths.
	"Well, how did you like it?"  The mother 
said, sitting with her fleshy arms folded over 
her plump bosom.
	"You were correct, Madam," he panted 
hoarsely. "They are very good."  He fumbled 
around in his satchel and gave them each an 
invitation, suddenly eager to take his leave of 
this witch and her two homely cocksucking 
daughters.  They accepted the rolled up papers 
as if they were made of gold.  He stood and 
pulled up his trousers for the second time that 
morning.  He was about to excuse himself and 
depart when there came a crash from down the 
hall.
	"Is there someone else here?"  He asked.  
	The woman's face twisted with a flash of not
quite concealed fury. "No," she said cooly.
"There is no one."
	Roland became suspiscious.  "But I heard a 
noise," he said, peering down the hallway.  He
was paid to be thorough.
	"It was nothing," she said, too quickly.  
"Just a mouse.  Hadn't you best be going?"
	He ignored her and began walking down the 
hall.  Neither the old biddy or her daughters 
looked to have done a day's worth of chores in 
their lives.  There was someone else there, and 
even if it was just a maid, he was required to 
see if she was deserving of an invitation.  He 
heard the scrape of a dustpan and a faint, 
feminine sneeze from behind one door.  He opened 
it quickly, before the old witch could try to 
stop him.  
	A young woman was kneeling on the floor and 
cleaning the ash from the fireplace, and she 
looked up, startled at his sudden entrance.  He 
stared at her, open-mouthed.  Even with her 
blonde hair ratty and unkempt, even with her 
face streaked with soot, even with her loose and 
unflattering housedress, she was by far the most 
beautiful creature he had ever seen.  "Who is 
this?"  He asked demandingly as the old witch 
shouldered past him.
	"A nobody," she said, glaring down icily at 
the poor girl with a look that would curdle 
fresh milk.  "My idiot stepdaughter, who had 
best get herself to her room if she knows what's 
good for her."
	"Yes, stepmother," the girl said meekly, 
rising to her feet.  Her movements revealed a 
brief indication of full, perky breasts, a 
slender waist, and wide, gracefully curving 
hips. Roland stared in amazement. Here was a 
finely cut diamond in a house full of lumpy 
rocks.
	"Wait."  Roland commanded, in a voice that 
surprised them all, especially him, with its 
level strength.  Everyone froze and looked at 
him, and he reached into his satchel with a 
flourish and presented the blonde girl with an 
invitation.  She stared at it, her deep blue 
eyes wide with disbelief.
	"M..me?"  She stammered.  "You must be 
mistaken.  I'm far too ugly to go to the Ball.  
There must be someone else..."
	"No," Roland interrupted, flashing a look of 
hatred at the girl's bitch of a stepmother.  He 
was beginning to suspect what she had done to 
this poor young woman.  	"You deserve it.  
Here,"  he lifted her hands to it, seeing that 
they were raw and bruised.  He gently closed her 
fingers around it.  "You aren't ugly.  Don't let 
anyone ever tell you that."  She looked at him 
in astonishment.  
	He turned to the stepmother.  "Good day, 
Madam," he said in an icy tone, then wheeled and
left, yearning to be outside and away from that 
evil bitch.  He felt sorry for the girl, but 
there was little else he could do.  He sighed 
and went on to the next house.  The dark-skinned 
aristocratic woman who answered the door was 
quite lovely, though she still paled in comparision
to the poor peasant girl.  She was wearing a silk
robe, and she let it slip as he introduced himself, 
flashing a large-nippled breast at him as she 
stood innocently in the doorway.
	It was going to be a long day.

			*

	Cindy had gotten another severe beating for 
dropping the cinder bucket and making the noise, 
even though it had been an accident.  "You 
could've spoiled everything!"  her stepmother 
had screamed after the messenger had left.  What 
had hurt even more than the whipping was when 
her stepmother had torn up the invitation that 
he had given her.  She cried for a while, but 
she realized it was foolish to think that 
someone like her could go to the Royal Ball 
anyway.  The nice messenger had only been trying 
to be kind when he said that she wasn't ugly.
	Her sisters were so happy about going to the 
ball that they almost forgot that she was their 
servant.  
	"Its so exciting!" they told her in the
bath the following night.  "We're going to meet
the Prince, and the King and Queen and all the
Dukes and Lords!"  They giggled and talked and
never once spoke harshly to her or put her in her
place.  They even asked her what dresses they
should wear and how much makeup they should use.
Her sisters had never asked Cindy for her opinion
on anything before, and she almost stuttered when
she blurted out that she thought that they should
dress nicely but not extravagantly, and maybe not
wear as much makeup as usual and just let their
natural beauty show through.
	They stared at her strangely for a moment, 
and she lowered her head, thinking that she had 
been too bold.  Then they asked her to join them 
in the bath, something that they had never done 
before.  She was flattered.  She undressed 
hesitantly, feeling embarrased as they looked at 
her ugly body.  They made room for her in the 
large tub, and she sat down in the warm water 
with her arms crossed over her breasts.  Her 
sisters laughed at her modesty.  They splashed 
her with water and told her to relax.  She 
slowly uncovered herself, blushing as she 
noticed them staring at her chest.
	"Lie back," Roberta instructed.  "We will 
wash you for a change."   She did so, surprised to
feel Patricia's hands on her shoulders, guiding
her back to lie against her sister's wet body.
She was lying with her head on Patricia's shoulder,
feeling her sister's soft bosom on her back as she
faced toward Roberta.  Roberta took a sponge and
squeezed it over Cindy's breasts, covering them
with warm, soapy water.  Then she slowy rubbed the
sponge over Cindy's shoulders and neck.
	It felt wonderful.  Cindy had never had 
anyone bathe her, except maybe when she  was 
very young, and she found herself loving the 
unaccustomed attention.  Patricia's hands began 
to move in slow circles over her lower back with 
a gentleness that Cindy had never felt before. 
The touch of the wet hands soothed her tender 
skin, still sore from yesterday's beating.   
Roberta slid the sponge under the curve of one 
of Cindy's breasts, sending a little warm shiver 
down her spine.  Cindy closed her eyes 
luxuriously, savoring every little sensation.  
Her sisters had never been this nice to her 
before.
	Her eyes flew open in surprise as she felt 
Roberta caressing her breasts, the sponge 
forgotten.  Roberta kneaded Cindy's firm tits like
pieces of dough, and they alway popped back to their
original shape.  Roberta gently tweaked the nipples,
sending a delicious ache through her breasts.  
Patricia's hands rubbed over Cindy's hips and to the
tops of her thighs, dipping occasionally to stroke
the tender skin near her womanhood.  Cindy found
herself becoming very excited.  Roberta suddenly
leaned forward, and Cindy gasped as her sister 
sucked one of her nipples into her mouth.  At 
almost the same time, Patricia slipped her hand
between Cindy's legs and caressed her sex, sliding
her fingers up and down slowly over the length of 
the excited slit.
	Cindy moaned.  It felt so different, so good 
to be touched by someone else.  She was embarrased
to feel her little opening start nipping at her 
sister's fingers.
	"Feel this," Patricia whispered excitedly.
Roberta slid her hand where Patricia's had been a
moment before, then Cindy's nipple popped out of
her mouth as she gasped in astonishment.  Roberta
slid a finger inside, and Cindy blushed as she
felt her tunnel contracting around it.  Patricia 
reached around and squeezed Cindy's tits as Roberta
started pushing her finger in and out almost roughly, 
Cindy's muscles trying to catch it as it slipped 
between them.  Cindy was amazed as Roberta 
leaned forward and kissed her wetly on the mouth.  
She hadn't been kissed since she was a little 
girl, and Cindy found herself kissing her sister 
urgently, even trying to catch Roberta's tongue 
with hers.  
	Roberta slipped a second finger between the 
lips of Cindy's sex, and it wasn't long before 
Cindy felt the super-nice tingles start.  After 
only a few moments she yelped and climaxed 
wildly on her sister's finger.
	"I think you're clean enough now," Roberta 
said, standing up, her dark and tangled bush 
momentarily level with Cindy's eyes.  She 
stepped out, and Cindy and Patricia followed, 
rubbing themselves dry in front of the warm 
fire.  Once mostly dry, Roberta sat down on the 
thick and soft rug in front of the fireplace.  
She slowly spread her legs apart, looking up at 
Cindy expectantly.  Cindy instantly guessed what 
was being asked of her, and she dropped to the 
floor between Roberta's thighs without hesitation.
	Her stepsister's large sex was open and 
wet from the bath, the thick hair glistening with 
little droplets of water.  Cindy closed her eyes 
and extended her tongue, pushing it against 
Roberta's warm slit.  She licked timidly at 
first, then more boldly as she became accustomed 
to the strong, musky taste.  Roberta moaned as 
Cindly licked up and down between her thick and 
fleshy lips, sometimes kissing and sucking at 
her stepsister's drooling womanhood. 
	She glanced up to see Patrica sitting on
the rug a few feet away, watching them intently as 
she rubbed herself.  Thinking of her little 
pleasure button, Cindy spread Roberta's lips 
apart gently to see if she also had one.  She did.  
Cindy looked at the pearly white bump curiously 
for a moment before beginning to lick at it 
softly. 
	Roberta cried out and grabbed Cindy roughly 
by the hair, holding her face tightly against 
her swampy crotch.  Cindy could only lick and 
slurp as Roberta arched her back and orgasmed 
violently on Cindy's face, her fleshy thighs 
trembling against her ears.
	Once she caught her breath, Cindy crawled 
between her other sister's legs, sliding her tongue
around inside Patricia's steamy hole until she too
convulsed with pleasure.  Afterward, her sisters
sandwiched her between them on the rug and fondled
her affectionately, making Cindy feel more
appreciated than she ever had in her life.  She 
was lucky to have such loving sisters, she thought
dreamily, and she knew that her stepmother only
seemed cruel because she was doing what was best
for her.

			*

	Bruce wiped his brow on his sleeve and 
looked up and down the street.  He hated these 
hot and butch looking gypsy clothes, but they 
were important to his act, so he had to wear 
them.  Besides, he thought, grinning, it wouldn't 
be much longer before he could ditch them and 
move on, his pockets full of gold.  This Royal 
Ball was the best thing that had ever happened, 
all these rich bitches running off in such a 
hurry to get into the Prince's pants that they 
sometimes even left their doors unlocked.  
	He lifted up his cart and started walking 
again, whistling a merry, almost gay tune.  As 
far as anybody knew, he was a travelling gypsy 
selling worthless trinkets. But, underneath the 
little charms and baubles was almost a full 
cartload of jewelry, silver, expensive silk 
clothes, and more than a few sacks of gold 
coins.  He might be nothing more than a thief, he 
admitted, but he was a damn good one.
	Now with the Ball only a hour away, Bruce 
was looking for his next target.  And there it 
is, he thought, spying a group of three richly 
dressed women emerging from a house.  The older 
woman yelled at the coach driver who was waiting
nearby, and the driver jumped into the coach. The
women piled in, and the coach began to rattle off
down the street.
	Bruce waited until it was out of sight, 
then walked boldy up to the front of the house.
He set the cart down on the porch and went to the
door.  He tried the handle, and grinned as the
door opened.  Thank God for dumb rich tarts, he
thought, shaking his head.  He looked around,
then wheeled his little cart around back out of
sight.
	He went inside, closing the door behind him.  
He sauntered through the place casually, looking 
for valuables and maybe a snack.  He picked up a 
silver candleholder, brightly polished and 
without a speck of dust on it.
	"Well," he muttered to himself, "at least 
these rich fish take care of their stuff."  He 
turned around the corner into the kitchen, and 
almost collided with a blonde girl carrying an 
armload of wood.  She squealed in fright and 
dropped her burden, scattering wood all over the
floor. Bruce screamed almost as loudly and stumbled
backward, nearly falling over a chair.
	"Who are you?!" She asked in a wavering voice,
looking at him with frightened blue eyes.
	"Damn, girl!" Bruce wheezed, breaking into a
warm smile.  "You nearly scared me out of my skin!"
	She looked at him distrustfully.  "What are 
you doing in my stepmother's house?"
	He thought quickly, taking in the girl's 
pretty features and ragged clothes.  He suddenly
remembered an old story he'd heard when he was young.
	"Why," he said with a charming smile, "I'm 
your Fairy Godmother, of course!"
	She frowned suspiciously.  "How can you be 
my Fairy Godmother?  You're a man!"
	"Don't let that fool you," he said, then 
whispered in a conspiratory tone, "I'm in 
disguise."
	The girl's face was still doubtful.  "Why 
were you sneaking around, then?"
	"Because, I didn't want your wicked 
stepfather to see me."
	"Stepmother."  She corrected.
	"Right, stepmother."  He shrugged.  "So, now 
that I'm here, what is your greatest wish?"
	She looked at him appraisingly, seeming to 
waver for a moment. Then she giggled.  "No, it's 
silly!"
	"Tell me," he said in a comforting tone.  
"I'm your Fairy Godmother, you can trust me." 
Then a thought occured to him.  "How come a
pretty young thing like you isn't at the Ball?"
	"That's a strange question."  She said.
"I'm too ugly to go, of course."
	He thought it was a joke for a moment, until
he saw that her face was totally serious.  "You 
must be kidding!" He said, clapping his hand to 
his mouth in disbelief.  "You're beautiful!  You 
simply *have* to go."
	Her face was downcast.  "Thank you for being 
kind, but I know I'm not beautiful."
	 "Why do you say that?"
	"My stepmother and stepsisters have always 
told me so.  I'm lucky that they let me stay and 
clean and cook for them.  I don't know what I'd 
do without them."
	Bruce felt tears welling up in his eyes.  
"Oh, you poor dear!"  He felt sorry for her, and
mad at the same time.  Her bitch relatives 
wanted her as a slave, so they had kept telling 
her how ugly she was until she believed it.  He 
began to get an idea.
	"Would you want to go to the Ball, if you 
could?"  He asked, framing it as a "merely 
curious" type of question.
	"Well, yes," she said hesitantly.  "Of 
course.  I'd love to see the Prince and the 
jesters and the pretty castle ... but it's silly.
Besides, I don't even have an invitation."
	He suppressed a giggle.  If she looked this 
beautiful dirty and without makeup, nobody would 
refuse to let her in if she showed up nice.  He 
looked her in the eye.
	"What if I told you I can make it so you 
could go?"
	She looked at him, then frowned.  "How could 
you do that?"
	"I told you!  I'm your Fairy Godmother!  I 
could make you the most beautiful girl at the 
ball."  That was probably true enough.  "All I need
is for you to trust me, or the fairy magic won't 
work."
	She looked at him doubtfully, but there was 
a trace of hope in her voice.  "You're not really my
Fairy Godmother, are you?"
	He looked at her is if insulted.  "Of course 
I am!  Will you trust me?"
	She wavered for a moment, but only a moment. 
"Yes, I will trust you."
	A few minutes later he was rummaging around 
through the bedrooms, stocking up on things he 
would need.  Soap.  Perfume.  Bath oil.  Combs.  
Brushes.  He tossed all of them into a sack and 
took them into the bathroom, where the girl 
stood sheepishly with a towel draped around her.
	"All right now," he told her.  "Just hop in 
the bath and I'll have you fixed up in no time."  
She looked at him and blushed self-consciously.  
"Go on, girl," he said, slapping her lightly on 
the rump.  She hesitantly let the towel fall, 
revealing her shapely body.  She quickly stepped 
into the tub.  Bruce knelt beside her and spread 
the bath oil around in the water, then grabbed a 
cloth and soap.  Normally, something like this 
would make him queasy, but there was something 
about this girl's innocent beauty that he found 
strangely appealing
	She giggled as he began to wash her smooth 
arms and shoulders.  "That tickles!"
	After a few moments, she relaxed and half 
closed her eyes, obviously enjoying the attention.
He found himself admiring her gorgeous breasts, 
and she didn't protest as he briefly palmed a firm
breast in his hand and squeezed it gently.  
Realizing what he was doing, he yanked his hand
away.  What was wrong with him?  He shook his head
and continued down to wash her stomach and hips.
It was getting harder for him to concentrate.
	She opened her eyes as he gently moved her 
legs apart to wash her thighs, but he smiled 
reassuringly and she relaxed again.  He rubbed
the cloth lightly up and down her inner thigh, 
his hand "accidentally" brushing her soft blonde 
pubes.  He wondered if she would object to him 
washing her there, and after he was finished with 
her long graceful legs, he decided to find out.
	He watched her face as he began bathing her
lower stomach, then gradually moved lower until 
he was gently soaping up the little patch of 
curly hair on her mound.  She frowned slightly, 
but made no move to stop him as he slipped the 
cloth between her thighs, lightly brushing it 
over her most sensitive place.  After only a few 
seconds, he removed it and started on her back.  
He began noticing faint red streaks on her skin.
	"What are these marks from?"  He asked.  
They looked like welts.
	"Sometimes, when I do something stupid,"  
she said slowly "my stepmother has to punish 
me."  Bruce's face twisted angrily.  What a 
vicious bitch, he thought.  I hope I get a chance
to 'punish' her someday, he thought with an wicked 
grin.  
	He finished washing her back.  At least the 
marks were almost gone and difficult to see.  He 
dabbed a little soap on the cloth and told her to 
keep her eyes shut as he washed her face.  He 
couldn't resist running his thumb over her smooth
and full lower lip.  As he suspected, once clean, 
her face was absolutely flawless. He thoroughly 
washed her long and neglected blonde hair, then had
her stand up as he patted her dry.
	Kneeling to dry her legs, his eyes became 
riveted between her supple thighs.  That has to 
be the poutiest, tightest-looking pussy on 
earth, he thought distractedly.  Almost without 
realizing it, he reached up and touched it with 
two of his fingers.
	She sucked in her breath and looked down at 
him in surprise.  He looked up and gave her another
reassuring smile, which she returned.  He simply
couldn't resist touching her pretty pussy, at least
a little.  He returned his eyes to it, his mouth
beginning to water.  He rubbed the cute little lips
slowly, feeling a dampness spreading over them from
within her.  He started feeling something strange,
like her lips were quivering as his finger moved 
over them.  He brought the finger to his lips,
tasting the sweet flavor of her wetness as he
sucked on it to moisten it even further.  He placed
the finger back on her warm slit, and pushed it very
slowly and very gently inside her.
	She gasped, and he glanced at her face to 
see that her eyes were closed and she was breathing
quickly.  He felt her pussy move around his finger
and he looked back to see her delicate lips contract.
A second later, it squeezed again, and again and again.
	His mind was reeling.  This beautiful girl 
was built for sex!  For the first time in his queer
life, Bruce ached to stuff his throbbing cock between
her set of pouty, sucking cuntlips.  But he restrained
himself, feeling  like it would almost be sacreligous.
	Reluctantly taking his hand away, he cleared 
his throat and told her to sit down so that he could
fix her hair.  She obliged him, and he went about
combing and brushing her long hair, which was looking
better already.
	Once finished, he ran out and fetched one of 
the nicer stolen gowns from his cart, and her eyes
nearly popped out of her head when she saw it.  It
was dark blue, lacy and sequoned, and matched the
color of her eyes perfectly.  She had put on frilly
undergarments while he was gone, and he told her to
take them off.  The brassiere she didn't need in
the first place, and the panties would likely get
in the way if the Royal Ball turned out anything
like he expected it would.
	She squirmed into the dress, and he was 
pleased to see that it fit her like a glove. He bent
over her with a few jars of makeup, applying very
little, but just enough to highlight her already
gorgeous features.
	After spending a few more minutes on her 
hair, he turned and glanced at the clock.  The Ball
was already starting!  He had to hurry.
	He looked her over.  She was breathtakingly 
beautiful, so much so that a blind man could 
probably sense it if she walked nearby.  He led 
her to the mirror in the master bedroom.  He 
made her close her eyes until she was positioned 
perfectly in front of it.  Then, he told her to 
look, and she opened her eyes.  Her face lit up 
and she twirled around, looking at her flowing 
golden hair and her beautiful sparkling gown.  
But then, a sad look appeared in her eyes, and 
she turned to him.
	"What's wrong?" He asked.
	"I look nice," she began, "and the gown is 
wonderful, and my hair has never looked so good, 
but I'm still ugly."
	He frowned and kissed her forehead.  "You 
have always been beautiful," he said, looking 
into her eyes.  "Trust me. Would I lie to you?"  
She smiled, biting her lip and shaking her head.  
"Good, because I'm your Fairy Godmother, and I 
wouldn't ever tell you anything but the truth.  
Forget what anyone ever said about you being 
ugly.  Go to the ball, and you'll see.  I 
promise."  
	She hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she 
whispered tearfully.
	"No crying and spoiling your makeup, now," 
he chided softly.  He was starting to believe 
that he might be her Fairy Godmother after all.  
His eyes fell to the ground uncomfortably as she 
hugged him, and roved over her dainty little 
feet.  They were bare.  
	 "Oh no," he groaned.  "I forgot about 
shoes!  Wait here!"  He ran back out to his cart 
and rummaged through it, searching frantically.  
He didn't remember if he had snagged any
footwear, and his spirits sank as he neared the 
bottom of the cart.  Nothing.  Then, he heard 
the sound of glass ringing, and he lifted up a 
silk shirt to see a pair of sparkling glass 
slippers.  He gasped in surprise.  Surely he 
would've remembered these, but there was no time 
to wonder about it now.  He grabbed them and ran 
back inside.
	The girl also gasped with wonder as he 
showed her the slippers.  He slipped them on her 
feet, and they fit as if made for her.  She took 
a few hesitant steps in them, the heels ringing 
like little bells as they touched the floor.  
She laughed joyfully, a sound that warmed 
Bruce's heart.
	"Come on," he said, remembering how late 
it was. He escorted her out of the door and into 
the street, hoping that they could flag down a 
coach, but there was no sign of one.  They were 
likely all busy taking people to the Ball.  Just 
when they had almost given up hope, a coach 
rounded the corner.  Bruce waved and called to 
it, and it came to a shuddering halt.
	The coach driver leaned over to look at 
them, and his eyes went wide at the sight of the 
girl in her beautiful dress.
	"Please sir," she said demurely, "I need a 
ride to the Ball.  Could you help me?"
	"Well, uh, I'm supposed to pick up a rich 
bloke and his wife," he scratched his chin, his 
eyes locked on the girl, whose eyes fell sadly.  
"But, all right.  I'll give you a ride, Miss."
	She perked up and smiled charmingly.  "Oh, 
thank you!"  She stepped lightly into the coach, 
and Bruce followed, drawing a sour look from the 
driver, but then they were off.

			*

	Prince Edward sat morosely on his throne in 
the castle's grand ballroom, resting his quietly 
handsome face on his slender hands as he watched 
the arrivals walk in.  The musicians were 
playing a lively tune, and many nobles and 
merchants were dancing with the beautiful women.
	"Why so glum, my son?"  The King asked 
cheerfully, his dark eyes following a well-built 
servant as she carried a tray of refreshments 
down the hall.  "The Royal Ball is starting! 
This hall is bustling with the most beautiful 
young women in the kingdom, all lusting for a 
chance to be your bride!"
	The young prince sighed.  "There is more to 
love than beauty, father.  I care not whether my 
future bride is pretty.  I desire a woman who is 
charming and humble.  One who will love me and 
cherish me as I would cherish her, not one who 
will jump on my lap just for a chance at 
grabbing the royal jewels."
	The King laughed.  "It is strange for one
so young as you to be a romantic!  But don't fear, 
there is bound to be at least one girl in the 
lot who will catch your fancy."  He nudged the 
prince conspiratorally.  "Besides, its not so 
bad having a crowd of beautiful women thronging 
around you, willing to do anything to attract 
your attention.  They don't call it the Royal 
Ball for nothing!"  He laughed again and clapped
his son on the back before moving off, his 
eyes still following the serving girl's shapely
backside.
	Edward sighed.  His father didn't understand 
him.  The King was always running around the 
castle chasing skirts and everyone knew it, 
especially the Queen.  His mother probably 
understood him best of all, the prince thought.  
She knew that he wasn't like his father.  While 
the prince didn't exactly hate the idea of the Ball,
he doubted that he would find his dream girl among 
the greedy merchant's daughters and snobbish noble
girls who would be in attendance.
	Oh well, he thought, looking at a group of 
women who were standing nearby and fluttering 
their lashes at him.  He might as well make the 
most of it.

	The ball was now in full swing, but the 
Prince was in his chambers, waiting for the 
auditions to begin.  The auditions were his 
father's idea, of course.  Every young woman at 
the ball would be taken in one at a time before 
the Prince, and he could look them over, 
interview them, ask them to strip naked, 
anything he desired in order to find a girl he
wanted as his bride.  He found the idea 
hopelessly unromantic.  Of course, he was 
looking forward to having the most attractive 
girls in the land paraded before him, but there 
were more than two hundred of them in attendance!
How could he hope to find the bride of his dreams
among so many?
	As soon as the first girl entered, he knew 
he was in trouble.  She was dark haired and 
attractive, with full breasts and a large, well-
rounded ass.  He began asking her about herself,
but he became a bit uncomfortable as he noticed
her eyes roving hungrily over his crotch.  Without
warning, she jumped from her seat and fell in
front of him, yanking down his trousers and
taking his princely cock into her mouth.  She
began sucking on it eagerly, making the
surprised organ swell to full size in her mouth.
The prince let her keep going for a minute, then
gently pushed her back and showed her out.  He
sat back in his chair and pulled up his breeches.
She had been very good at it, but he wanted much
more in a bride than just someone that would suck
his cock.
	The next girl jumped on him as soon as she 
came in, kissing him passionately and humping 
her crotch against his semi-hard penis.  He had 
to call for the guards to come in and pry her off 
him.
	He sighed as they dragged her out, screaming 
"I love you!" at the top of her voice.  A man 
like his father would love this situation, but 
the Prince only found it depressing.
	The auditions continued in a similar fashion 
for some time, until about fifty or so young 
women had come and gone.  He had to replace his 
trousers twice and his shirt once after they had 
been ripped off by overzealous women.  Personally,
he considered himself rather plain looking, but none
of the girls seemed to care.  They worked themselves
into a frenzy regardless.  After all, he was the
Prince.  
	He called wearily for the next girl. She was 
a statuesque redhead who merely sat down in front of
him, looking up at him with her sparkling green eyes.
Her name was Tamara. He asked her many questions,
which she answered coyly and intelligently.  She
looked very promising.  And when she slowly moved
forward and pecked him softly on the lips, he felt
no desire to object.  She kissed him with slowly 
increasing passion, her hands roving gently over 
his body.  
	She could be the one, he thought to himself 
as her hands slipped under his shirt and caressed
his hairless chest.  She deftly unbuttoned his 
shirt, then lowered her head to flick her warm
tongue across his shoulder, stopping only to swirl
it over his nipples.  The prince felt his member
stiffening as she rubbed his thighs, kissing her
way down his stomach.  When she reached his tented
trousers she gently pulled them down, his throbbing
manhood popping out at her face like a flick-knife.
She looked at it admiringly for a moment, then
flicked her long tongue teasingly under the head.
He was enthralled by her seduction, and could only 
watch and moan as she slowly swallowed his 
penis, drawing him into her throat with a gentle 
prowess that made his head spin.  She nursed on 
his member as it jerked with pleasure inside her 
hot, wet mouth.  
	After only a few moments she pulled away, 
squirming slowly out of her dress with amazing 
fluidity and grace.  Once naked, she draped her 
long, milky-white legs over the arms of his 
chair and lowered herself down on him.  He felt 
the moist heat of her pussy on his shaft and 
looked down, seeing her reach under and lift his 
penis up to point at the pink cleft between her 
thighs.  She slowly dropped down on it, gasping 
as the head slid inside her.  The Prince groaned.
She was very wet, and so hot!  He groaned as she
bottomed out with his entire length inside her.
She ground her pelvis against his, working even
more of his cock into her pulsing vagina.  He
was intensely aware of her red pubic hair rubbing
his own patch of brown, and he watched her creamy
tits heave in his face as she began to bounce up
and down on his lap.  Her pussy lips clung wetly
to his cock as she rose up, then they slid quickly
back down to nestle around the base of his shaft.
He even felt their dampness on his balls, she was 
taking him so deep.  
	She wrapped her arms around his neck and 
moaned into his mouth as she kissed him urgently,
her red tresses falling wildly around her face.
He returned her kiss passionately, thoroughly
consumed by the hottest fuck he had experienced
in his life. He became aware that she was nearing
her climax, and he slid his thumb between her
slick labia and gently stroked her clitoris. She
came almost immediately, her eyes  opening wide
and a long, breathy moan escaping  her lips. He
felt her vagina convulse around his penis, and
he sucked one of her pretty pink nipples into
his mouth as she rode out her orgasm on his lap.
	When it was over, she fell limp on top of 
him, whimpering softly.  He was used to this 
reaction, and he kissed her neck and shoulders 
tenderly.
	"Oh God," she moaned weakly, "oh God.  
Twice.  You made me come twice."  He waited 
until she had the strength to start riding him 
again, but then stopped her and lifted her off 
him reluctantly, his cock protesting as it 
slipped out of her warm body.  "Wait," she also 
protested, latching her arms around his waist.  
"I want your come.  I want you to come in me," 
she murmured pleadingly.
	"Later," he told her, kissing her on the 
forehead.  She might be the one, alright.
	"You promise," she asked, as he held up her 
dress for her.
	"Yes."  He answered, meaning it.  She 
reluctantly put her dress back on, then grabbed 
him and kissed him passionately.  He gently 
pulled away, then dropped to his knees and 
kissed her hand.  She blushed, and he escorted 
her to the door.  When she was gone, he fell 
back on his chair, his penis still coated with
her creamy juices.  He didn't know how he was 
going to survive another hundred and fifty 
girls.  He just didn't.

			*

	The King chuckled to himself as he closed
the peephole into the Prince's chamber.  He had
a raging erection from watching that red-haired
sex poodle ride his son.  She had been something,
all right!  Even his son seemed to realize that.
Maybe there was hope for the boy after all.  In
his place, the King would be screwing everything
that walked through the door!
	The King returned to the Ballroom, which 
seemed emptier than before.  It wasn't because 
people were leaving, they were just going off 
somewhere a little more private for a Ball of 
their own.  He breathed a sigh of relief as he 
noticed that the Queen was nowhere to be seen.
	"Probably off in the closet with some 
pageboy", he muttered, not without a touch of 
jealously.  The Queen was still a very sexy 
woman for her age, and just because he liked to 
play around didn't mean that he wasn't still 
fired up by the thought of her with someone 
else.
	"Can I get you anything to drink, Milord?"  
A coquettish, sligtly accented voice asked.  To 
the King's delight, he saw that it was the new 
French serving girl.
	"Why yes, my dear," he said, placing his 
hands on her jutting breasts and squeezing them
softy, "your sweet nectar will do."
	She gasped at his bold touch, her face 
turning an exquisite pink color.  "Milord!"  She 
said indignantly, pulling back just out of 
reach.  "Milord forgets himself."  She turned 
and walked off toward the kitchen, her shapely 
buttocks jiggling slightly as she walked.  The 
King grinned, feeling his pulse racing.  He so 
loved a challenge.  It made the hunt much more 
worthwhile.

			*

	Cindy was becoming flustered by all the 
attention she was getting.  She had only arrived 
at the Ball a few minutes before, but she was
surprised at the strange looks she was getting
from the men and even some of the women.  They
weren't the harsh stares she had grown accustomed
to from her stepmother and stepsisters.  They were
looks she had never seen before, looks of sincere 
admiration, lust, even awe, and frankly she was 
getting a little lightheaded at all the attention.  
	Bruce, her Fairy Godmother, had left her at 
the door, telling her mysteriously that she had to
leave by midnight, before the Fairy Magic wore off.
Then he wandered away somewhere, leaving her to
fend for herself.
	Not that it was difficult, with all the men 
stumbling over themselves to ask if there was 
anything she needed.  One of the servants, a good
looking French girl, had even winked at her with 
an expression that reminded Cindy of the looks her
sisters got before they played with each other.
	Now, with more than a dozen men crowding 
around, she was feeling rather faint.  She 
excused herself and ran to the bathroom, her 
glass slippers ringing on the stone floor like 
music.  She shut and locked the door behind her.  
She felt hot and confused.  She had known that 
the funny little man really wasn't her Fairy 
Godmother, but she had gone along because it was 
silly, and maybe because part of her wanted to 
believe that the things he said about her being 
pretty were true.  And they were, she was 
starting to realize.  All those handsome men had 
looked at her and ignored all the other girls.  
She had to be beautiful, but why would her 
stepmother and stepsisters have lied to her?
	"Because," a little voice said in the back 
of her head, "they were using you."
	"No," she whispered, tears rising in her 
eyes.  "That's not true."  But she knew it was.  
Deep down, she always had.  She dabbed at her 
eyes with a tissue, not wanting to spoil Bruce's 
hard work.  Maybe he was her Fairy Godmother 
after all.  It really didn't matter.  What 
mattered was that she was here, at the Ball,
something which she had only dreamed of doing.
	As she gathered herself and left the 
bathroom, she came face to face with Roberta, 
who stared at her like she was seeing a ghost.
	"Cindy?" she asked incredulously.  "Is that 
you?"
	She hung her head dejectedly, automatically 
becoming subserviant.  "Yes, Roberta."  She 
looked up suddenly.  "Oh, please don't tell 
mother I'm here!  She'd kill me!"
	Roberta was still staring.  "What happened 
to you?  You look so... different."  Cindy 
noticed distractedly that Roberta had taken her 
advice and had not put on too much makeup.  
	Just then, a horn sounded.  "Last call for 
Auditions with the Prince!"  A squire called.  
	Roberta turned.  "I'd... we'd better go," 
she said, looking back to Cindy.  "Unless you 
want to miss your chance at meeting the Prince!"  
She smiled and walked off quickly toward where 
the squire was motioning girls through a 
curtain.
	Cindy hesitated for a moment, but only a 
moment.  Her head was reeling.  Her?  Meet the 
Prince?  It didn't seem possible.  But as she 
fell into line and noticed all the envious 
stares she was getting from the other young 
women, it started to seem more and more real.

			*

	Bruce wandered through the castle, and 
almost everywhere he looked people were screwing 
their brains out.  It wasn't quite an orgy yet, 
that would start at midnight, another reason why 
he had told Cindy to leave before then.  He 
didn't want an innocent girl like her to get 
mixed up in all this drunken debauchery, not if 
he could help it.  He was surprised that he was 
feeling so protective of her.  Well, after all, 
she was special.  Very special.  
	He paused out on a balcony, then his ears 
perked as he heard a woman's shrill laughter.  
Something about the voice was vaguely familiar.  
He looked around for the voice's owner and 
immediately recognized the gray-haired woman he 
had seen yelling at the coach driver.  Cindy's 
stepmother.  She was babbling to a very drunk 
and very fat man who looked like he was about to 
fall off the balcony.  She held a wine glass in 
one hand and looked like she was rather swished 
herself.  He grinned, seeing a chance for a 
little revenge.
	He slinked up to her and caught her 
attention.
	"What do you want?"  She asked 
suspisciously, her eyes having difficulty 
focusing on him.
	"I saw you from over there, and I just had
to come over and meet you," he said, in his most
flattering voice.  "Your beauty is just so 
entrancing, I couldn't resist."
	She laughed shrilly again.  "So," she said 
drunkenly, "you wanna talk, or you wanna fuck?"
	He bit down his revulsion, forcing a smile.  
He took her by the hand and dragged her to an 
empty alcove.
	The old bitch started to take her dress off, 
but Bruce told her not to bother and pushed her 
down to her hands and knees, then steeled 
himself and flipped her dress up over her fleshy 
ass. She wasn't wearing knickers, and the sight 
of her bare ass in the lamplight almost made him 
retch.  He forced himself to look at her anus.  
Sure enough, her motherly asshole was tiny and 
tightly puckered.  Virginal.  Bruce kneeled 
behind her, then closed his eyes and dropped his 
trousers.  The first thing that came to mind was 
Cindy's pouty and tight little pussy sucking at 
his finger like a mouth.  He began to get hard, 
and jerked himself into he was fully erect.
	"Well?" the old bitch was saying, wiggling 
her ass obscenely at him.  "Is it in yet?"
	Oh, you'll know when its in alright, you 
heartless bitch, Bruce thought to himself.  He 
aimed himself at her tiny rosebud of an anus, 
and then thrust forward, grabbing her fat hips 
so that she couldn't escape as his dry cock 
forced its way past her too-tight sphincter.  
She screamed with agony, and it was the best 
sound he'd heard her make yet. She tried to 
squirm away, but he held on tightly, driving 
even more of his penis roughly into her.  He 
began thrusting in and out of her dry ass 
mercilessly, the friction rubbing his shaft raw.  
	This is for Cindy, you bitch, he thought, 
grinning as she cried and moaned with pain.  He 
gave it to her until he couldn't stand it 
anymore, then pulled out.  She fell to the 
floor, sobbing and cursing, and he kneeled down 
in front of her, rubbing his raw cock as he 
looked down at her.  When he felt close, he 
leaned down.
	"This is for being such a evil fuck of a 
mother," he said, then shot his sperm all over
her face.  She cursed and spat at him, but she 
was too drunk and too shocked to do anything but 
lie there and take it.  When he was done, her 
face was covered with white gobby strings. 
Bruce smiled at a job well done, hiked up his 
pants, and left.

			*

	The Prince's balls ached miserably, but it 
was almost over.  No one else had yet equalled the
redhead's quiet and sincere enthusiasm, though many
had tried.  His cock had been stroked, jerked,
licked, sucked, bitten, swallowed, fucked, stuck
into cleavage, even pressed between feet. And through
all that, he hadn't allowed himself to come.  There
was only one girl who would make him do that, and he 
suspected that it was the one who had already asked
for it so pleadingly.
	The last two girls had been unusually plump 
and somewhat unattractive, but he talked to them 
anyway, not knowing what shape or appearance his 
future bride might take.  But, like so many others,
they had dived too quickly for his penis, and he'd
had them ushered out.
	"How many are left?" He wearily asked the 
doorman.
	"Only one, your Highness."  Came the reply.
	At last!  "Send her in."  He commanded, his 
thoughts already turning back to the feisty redhead.
He saw a girlish figure hesitate at the doorway,
then come in.  He looked up, and all thoughts of
other women were destroyed.
	She was beautiful beyond words, a picture of 
complete loveliness from the top of her blond 
head to the tips of her glass-covered toes.  Her 
slender body was perfectly proportioned, from 
her full, pert breasts to her gracefully wide 
hips and long, supple legs.  Her face looked to
have been sculpted by by the world's greatest 
artist; her little perfect nose; her round, 
bright blue eyes; her small, full-lipped mouth; 
her flawless skin; her arching eyebrows; her 
delicate chin.
	Speechless, he motioned her to sit.  She did 
so nervously, her cheeks turning red as she 
stared down, refusing to look up at his eyes.  
He found this oddly charming that a beauty such 
as she was ashamed of herself in front of him.
	"What is your name," he asked, finding words 
at last.
	"Cinderella, Milord."  She replied meekly.  
"But everyone calls me Cindy."  She smiled and 
started to look up, but then quickly looked back 
down again, her blue eyes flitting shyly along 
the floor.
	He was in love.  It was strange, all he knew 
about her was her name, but there was something 
about her, she was so gorgeous and yet so humble 
that she had already captured his heart.

			*

	The King followed the serving girl into the 
kitchen, pleased to see that it was almost 
deserted.  The girl bent at the knees to unload 
her tray, and the King eyed her ass lecherously, 
thinking of something that *he'd* like to 
unload.  The girl seemed unaware of him as he 
crept up from behind and gripped one of her 
soft, firm buttocks in each hand.  The Frenchie 
squealed in surprise and dropped her tray, her 
ass quivering superbly against his palms.  He 
pushed her up against the table, squeezing her 
rump firmly.
	"Mon Dieu!" she squeaked.  "Milord, you 
should not be doing this!  The Queen..."
	"The Queen's off frolicking with the 
musicians, no doubt!"  He chuckled.  "Besides, 
your ass is so full, so ripe, like a pair of 
juicy melons." 
	She was beginning to pant.  "Milord mustn't 
say such things,"  she stammered, her palms 
pressed flat against the table.
	"Why?"  He said in her ear.  She smelled 
faintly of perfume.  "Does it get you hot 
between the legs?  Do my words make your juices 
flow like wine?"  He reached around her chest 
and began fondling her breasts.  They were more 
than a handful.  He pushed his hips forward to 
keep her pressed against the table, his erection 
nestling between the soft cheeks of her ass.
	"Oh!"  She exclaimed as he tweaked her 
nipples through her blouse.  The King felt them 
stiffen to hard nubs between his fingers.
	"So, you like that, do you?"  He asked.  She 
nodded breathlessly.  "Then here, let me do 
something that you'll love."  He stepped back, 
spun her around, and lifted her up to sit on the 
table.  Her face was red and she was panting 
heavily, her tits threatening to burst out from 
her tight blouse with every breath.  She gasped 
as he ripped her blouse open, sending buttons 
flying across the floor.  He bent and closed 
his mouth around a large brown nipple, sucking 
at it like an infant.  The girl sighed and 
cooed, the King's hands caressing her hips and 
thighs.
	"Oooh, Milord!" she breathed.  He sucked her 
other nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his 
tongue until it was also stiff.
	"Now," he said, kneeling between her legs, 
"for the main course!"  He spread her legs apart 
and pushed up her dress, revealing her garters 
and a pair of lacy panties that made the King's 
mouth water.  He nuzzled at her crotch, smelling 
her excitement and tasting her wetness even 
through the cloth.  He mouthed her steamy slit 
through her panties for a few moments, causing 
her to squirm and whimper on the table.  
	Desiring to taste flesh, not cloth, the 
King reached under her dress and unhooked her 
garters just enough to get her panties down and
off.  He brought them to his nose and inhaled
deeply, breathing in the serving-girl's musky
scent.  He stuffed them into his vest pocket as
a momento, then stuck his face into her crotch
and began kissing her bare and dripping pussy.
	This was one meal that he would never get 
tired of, he thought to himself as he licked and 
sucked at the sexy French girl's twat, her moans 
and sighs of pleasure sounding like sweet music 
to his ears.  He sucked her until she was 
hanging on the verge of orgasm, then stood up 
with his moist face level with hers.  Her hands 
went frantically to her pussy, but he grabbed 
them and held them away.  She writhed on the 
tabletop, humping her ass on the smooth wood.
	"Please," she whimpered.  "Milord, 
please..."
	"Please what?"  He said, looking into her 
eyes.
	"Please... make me come, oh please Milord, 
I'm so close..."
	He unbuttoned his trousers and took out his 
throbbing penis.  "With this?"  He asked.
	She didn't hesitate. "Anything, Milord! Yes! 
Fuck me! Please!"
	He grinned, then pulled her to the edge of 
the table and slipped his cock into her 
overheated pussy.  She was tight, and so, so 
wet.  The King grunted and began pumping, the 
girl squealing and squeaking as he drove his 
dick in and out of her needy hole.  In seconds, 
she fell back on her elbows and shook as she 
reached her climax, groaning and trembling as if 
she were having a seizure.  She mumbled 
something incoherently in French as the King 
continued to fuck her with long, powerful 
thrusts.  Watching this sex kitten come brought 
the King to the verge of his own climax, and he 
groaned as he felt the first spurt blast hotly 
from the end of his penis and into her tight 
depths.  She moaned, seeming to feel it as well 
as he pumped his load into her body, then 
collapsed panting on top of her.  Her breasts 
were like soft pillows, and he rested his head 
on them as he began to soften in her pussy.
	"Did Milord like his meal?"  she asked in a 
breathy voice.
	"Oh, yes, very much."  He said, grinning.  
"You can serve it to me whenever you wish."
	"I may wish to quite often, Milord," she 
said, tousling his hair.  

			*

	Cindy felt like she was going to faint as 
the Prince asked her to sit down.  She had 
expected him to send her away at once, and she 
had been positively giddy when he asked her 
name.  Now, he was looking at her silently, she 
could feel his eyes on her even though she was 
looking down.  She was feeling very warm, almost 
like she had when she had touched herself.  
	The Prince leaned forward.  "Look at me, 
Cindy."
	She swallowed hard.  She slowly looked up, 
her eyes traveling from his fine leather boots 
to his silk trousers, past his slender waist, 
over his silk shirt, and up to his face.  God, 
she thought, he was beautiful!  His eyes were 
brown and gentle, his face was smooth and 
intense. Suddenly she wanted to touch him, to 
hold him in her arms and never let go of him,
because if she lost him she would want to die.  
Her eyes locked with his, and her heart leaped 
into her throat as she saw her own feelings 
reflected there.  Was it possible?  Could he be 
feeling the same way?  She felt her strength 
draining away.  
	Suddenly she was lying on the floor
with the beautiful Prince leaning over her,
concern showing in his soft brown eyes.
	"Are you all right?"  He was asking.
	She smiled up at him dreamily, for this
must be a dream.  She reached up and traced his
lips with her fingers.
	"I love you," she whispered, tears welling 
as she thought that the dream might end.  "I 
love you."
	He looked down at her for a moment, then 
kissed her fingers.  He put his strong arms 
around her and lifted her up, carrying her to a 
plush sofa at the far end of the room.  He 
gently let her down, but she refused to let go, 
hugging her head to his chest like a little 
girl.  She felt his lips on her forehead, and 
she looked up, following his mouth with her eyes 
as he bend to kiss her on the lips.  It was 
electric, and Cindy felt herself gasping even 
though she wasn't out of breath.  Her hands 
fluttered in the air for moment, then settled 
around his neck as she kissed his gentle mouth 
like it was her only purpose in life.
	If she had felt warm before, now she was 
burning up.  Her thighs felt damp, and she felt 
hot fluttery sensations in her lower belly.  Her 
sex was already beginning to open and close, and 
she ached for him to touch her down there, longed
for his hands to caress her breasts.  She yearned
to reach between his legs and caress the thing
that she had only heard about, the counterpart
to her womanhood.  The organ that would push
between her legs and into her tiny opening, maybe
tearing her open, but she didn't care about that.
The feelings she was having now were worth any
pain, any pain her stepmother could dish out,
any pain in the world.
	"Make love to me," she whispered, her mouth 
less that an inch from his.  "Send me away, do 
whatever you wish, but please make love to me!"
	The Prince took her by the shoulders and 
gently pushed her down on the large sofa.  He 
moved over her, holding himself above her on his 
arms.  He bent down and kissed her passionately 
again, and she matched his passion with her own.  
She felt his hands slowly caressing her 
shoulders and neck, and she reached up to mirror 
his actions.	
	"I love you, and I will marry you," he said 
softly, kissing her throat, his words setting 
off something like a miniature explosion between 
her legs.  I must be dreaming, she thought, I 
must be. She felt his hands on the front of her 
dress, and her nipples instantly swelled and 
throbbed as he gently ran his hands over them.  
She helped him unlace her corset, and he gasped 
as her breasts came into sight.  He bent down 
and kissed beween them, rubbing his face in her 
cleavage.
	She crossed her arms around his head and 
held him to her breast, and she moaned as she 
felt him trace a nipple with his tongue.  He 
sucked and licked at her breasts and nipples 
until Cindy felt like she would explode again.  
Then he moved down her stomach, placing wet 
kisses on her belly.  He ran his hands up and 
down her thighs, his touch sending delicious 
shivers over her skin.  His hands slid up 
further, his warm hands brushing against the 
damp lips of her sex, causing them to nip wetly 
at his fingers.  He gasped when he felt this, 
and pushed the hem of her gown up around her 
waist, staring down at her uncontrollably 
clasping pussy.  She felt ashamed, and was sure 
that he would send her away now.  But to her 
surprise, he let out a moan and lowered his 
mouth to her lower lips, kissing them just as 
passionately.
	It felt so good!  She involuntarily tensed 
her hips, humping slightly at his face as she 
felt his tongue and lips exploring her twitching 
womanhood.  She felt a whole series of tingly 
explosions start going off, and she groaned and 
arched her back, humping up at his face even 
harder.  She thought she was going to die when 
he stuck his tongue deep into her, and she felt 
her pussy squeeze down on it. She had the 
biggest explosion of all then, and she collapsed 
in a daze, hardly aware of what was going on.

			*

	Prince Edward sat up and looked down at the
girl before him with nothing short of pure awe.
Her tight little pussy was the prettiest he'd ever 
seen, and it squeezed!  He had never heard of 
such a thing before, but now that he'd had a 
chance to feel it clamping down around his 
tongue and mouth, he didn't care why or how,
he just wanted more.  But first, he kissed 
Cindy's wonderfully flat and firm stomach, 
waiting for her to recover.  This was a woman he 
could love forever, he mused.  He was more certain
about that than anything.
	She stirred, smiling weakly.  He kissed her 
lovely breasts, and he felt her hands lifting 
his shirt.  He held up his arms, allowing her to 
pull it over his head.  She ran her fingers over 
his chest, touching every part of him as if she 
couldn't get enough.  Then she pulled at him 
until he moved up, kneeling on the sofa with his 
knees by her shoulders.  She gently tugged 
his trousers around his thighs, then looked at 
his tented trousers curiously as she tried to 
pull them down.  He helped her by unfastening 
them, and they fell open, revealing his 
straining erection to her wide blue eyes.  She 
stared at it for a moment, then propped herself 
up on her elbows so that his penis was inches 
away from her beautiful mouth.  He felt her warm 
breath on the head, and he shuddered.
	She kept her eyes glued to it, almost going 
crosseyed as she leaned forward to kiss the tip 
of his cock.  She kissed it dryly but tenderly, 
like it was her best friend.  Then her tongue 
flicked out hesitantly, licking the sensitive 
underside of his head.  He moaned, and she took 
this as encouragement to take it between her 
lips. She stopped when she had the spongy helmet 
in her mouth, then sealed her lips around the 
shaft and began sucking earnestly, her slick 
tongue still playing underneath the head.
	Cindy might not have been as skilled as many 
of the girls, but what she lacked in experience 
she more than made up for in eagerness.  To his 
surprise, he already felt the first signs of his 
approaching orgasm.  She was coaxing his seed 
out of him amazingly fast, and he had to pull 
away before he came in her mouth.  She looked at 
him questioningly, her pretty lips glistening.
	"You asked me to make love to you," he 
explained, moving back down over her and kissing 
her wet mouth where his penis had been seconds 
earlier.  She moaned into his mouth as he 
positioned his cock against the slick opening of 
her pussy.  She spread her legs apart as wide as 
she could, and he felt her tiny pussy trying to
suck the head of his cock into her.  He groaned, 
but restrained his desire to plunge it in to her 
squeezing hole.  She was too tight, and he would 
have to be careful not to hurt her.
	Slowly, very slowly, he pushed his hips 
forward, allowing only about half the head to 
slip inside her.  It was a very tight fit, and 
she gasped every time her pussy clamped wetly 
down on him.  He pushed a little more, and the 
whole head popped in snugly.  He gave her time
to adjust, though he had to grit his teeth to 
keep from exploding in her tight and sucking 
hole.  It felt incredible, but he could only 
imagine what it would feel like when he was all 
the way in.
	Inch by maddening inch, he slipped further 
in.  She was unbelievably tight, and he felt like 
she would squeeze his dick off if she so much as 
sneezed.  But, she was so wet that as her vagina 
relaxed and stretched, the pressure would lessen 
enough for his cock to slide in another inch or 
so.  Finally, their pelvises came together with 
an incredibly satisfying bump, and the prince 
could no longer hold out against the sucking and
milking actions of her pussy.  He was coming almost 
before he realized it, and he grunted hoarsely as 
his penis throbbed and exploded, emptying his 
pent-up sperm into her exquisite body.  His pulsed
and spurted uncontrollably, filling her with semen
until it started leaking out around his shaft and
balls and down her exquisite ass.
	Cindy cried out shortly after the first 
blast, her body convulsing beneath him as she came
just as hard, her pussy clamping down firmly on his
penis and refusing to let go.  When he finally had
nothing left, he fell on top of her, barely able to
hold himself up.  He kissed her trembling lips,
little droplets of his sweat falling on her chest
and stomach.
	She held on to him shakily, moaning and 
whispering into his ear.
	"I love you, My Prince, forever and ever."
	He looked down at her.  "And I love you, my 
Princess, forever and always."

			*

	Cindy blushed as he helped her clean up.  
The white gooey stuff he had put into her sure 
was sticky, and there was so much of it!  He 
wiped her off, rubbing a cloth between her legs 
and over her vulva, which was still tender after 
accomodating his huge thing.  It had hurt a little
at first, but nowhere near as bad as she thought
it would, and it had felt good at the same time.
When she felt him slide in all the way and his
organ swelled even bigger, a tidal wave of icy-hot
pleasure started in her groin.  Like a real tidal
wave, she could see it coming, but was totally
unprepared for its arrival.  It crashed over her
and she was spinning, lost in an explosion of
light and sound that she thought would drive her
mad.
	Now, she had almost recovered, but her legs 
were still shaky as the Prince, her Prince, 
helped her get dressed.  She looked down at her 
feet and giggled.  The glass slippers were still 
on her feet.  They were so comfortable that she 
forget she was wearing them, even when she was 
making love.
	"There," he said, helping her adjust her 
dress.  "Now, I'll take you to meet my parents, 
if you feel up to it."
	She was so used to being ordered around that 
she answered instantly.  "Of course," she said, 
smiling at her Prince.
	"I hope we can find them," he said, taking 
her out of the room on his arm. "Things can get 
a  little strange around here sometimes."
	They passed a few guards and stepped out 
into the Ballroom.  Cindy blushed as she saw what
was going on.  Almost everywhere she looked, on the
floor, on the tables, even in the rafters, people
were naked or semi-naked and making love wildly.
The Prince smiled helplessly at her and led her
among the sweating, grunting bodies.  A man grabbed
for Cindy's calf, but she jumped out of his reach 
before he could get her.
	"Be careful," the Prince warned.  "These 
things can get out of hand quickly."
	Cindy giggled as she recognized her 
stepsisters, Patricia and Roberta.  They were both
stark naked and sitting on the same man, who's
identity was hidden by Patricia's thighs as she
sat straddling his face while she kissed her
sister Roberta, who was bouncing up and down on
the man's lap.
	Seeing all this was making Cindy warm again, 
despite the incredible pleasure she'd just had.  
She squeezed the Prince's hand tightly.  Just then,
the big clock in the Ballroom started striking.
She looked up, and was dismayed to see that it was
midnight already!  She didn't know what to do.  She
remembered what her Fairy Godmother had said about
the magic wearing off at twelve, but she didn't
really believe that, did she?  Could she take the
chance that the Prince might notice a change and
not love her anymore?  On the other hand, could
she just leave and abandon him?
	Her glass slippers clinked loudly on the 
floor, and that made up her mind.  With a choked
sob, she gave her surprised Prince one more 
kiss, maybe the last, then turned and ran toward
the entrance. 
	"Goodbye,"  she called over her shoulder, 
the stunned and confused look on the Prince's 
face bringing tears to her eyes.  She had no way 
to explain, so she ran.
	"Wait," the Prince shouted. "Wait!"
	Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she 
could barely see where she was going.  She 
almost tripped, and then she felt someone grab 
at her left foot.  She jerked her leg free, but 
the slipper came off.  She kept running until 
she was outside.  She went up to a coach which 
was parked nearby.
	"I need to go home," she told the driver. 
"Fast.  Can you take me?"  The driver looked at 
her oddly, but nodded, and she climbed in. As 
the coach left sight of the pretty castle, Cindy 
broke down and cried like she hadn't for years.  
It felt awful, but she felt much better 
afterward.  Good enough to face her stepmother 
again, almost good enough to face the possiblity 
of never seeing the Prince again.  But at least 
he might still love her, and that would be 
enough.

			*

	The Prince sat miserably in his chambers, 
looking wistfully down at the glass slipper that 
he had managed to wrestle away from a drunken 
reveler.  Like the young woman who had worn it, 
the slipper was one of a kind, both beautiful 
and magical.  It had been nearly a month since 
the ball, many long days of searching for the 
only girl that he would ever love.  He still 
didn't understand why she had run from him.  She 
had seemed sorry to go, but he had been so 
stunned that he had hesitated too long to catch 
her, and when he finally made his way through 
the writhing bodies and to the gate, she was 
already gone.
	His heralds had been out scouring the land 
for weeks, but had come up empty-handed.  Edward
couldn't understand how a radiant beauty like 
Cindy could remain unnoticed for so long.  He 
felt empty without her, having little appetite 
for food and none for any other women.  He 
recalled his promise to the luscious redhead, 
but he couldn't bear to make love to anyone in 
his heartbroken state.
	"My Lord," an attendant said, approaching 
the Price quietly. "A herald wishes to speak 
with you."
	The Prince sighed despondently. Most likely 
it was another apologetic report on the 
fruitless search for the girl. "Very well. Send 
him in." The attendant bowed, then hurried to 
the chamber door. The man which came through it 
looked dusty and anxious, and the Prince 
recognized him as Roland, the man he had sent on 
an errand to Spain a few days before the Ball. 
He bowed quickly, looking anxious. 
	"Your Majesty," he began. "I have only just 
learned of your search for a young woman-"
	"Yes?" The prince interrupted, rising to his 
feet and beginning to feel anxious himself. "Do 
you have news of her?"
	"I do." Roland swiftly answered. "I would 
never forget such a face.  I know where
she may be found, living as the servant to a 
witchly old maid."
	The Prince was ecstatic. "We shall go at 
once!" He called to his servants to ready his coach.

			*

	Cindy stared dully at the crystal vases as 
she washed and polished them.   Since she had 
come back from the ball she had felt numb, 
consumed with an empty ache.  She no longer 
cared about anything, no longer thought about 
anything but Him.  The Prince.  Her Prince.
	Her stepmother had acted oddly for a while 
after the ball, but Cindy hardly noticed.  All 
she knew was that her stepsisters were no longer 
mean to her, and she hadn't even been punished, 
even when she'd dropped a piece of wood and got 
pieces of bark on the floor.   Her stepmother 
had only made her clean it up, barely even 
cursing at her.
	But, it made little difference to Cindy.  
Her only joy came late at night, when she would 
take the glass slipper out from behind her 
clothes-basket and look at it, stroking the 
smooth glass and remembering making love to the 
Prince.  She hadn't even had the heart to touch 
herself or even her sisters, who left her alone 
and spoke about her sadly when they thought she 
couldn't hear. Days turned into weeks, and Cindy 
came to accept that she would never see the 
Prince again.  
	One afternoon, she was tending to the 
washing when the doorbell clanged loudly. Cindy 
expected it was one of the nice young men who 
her stepsisters had met at the Ball, who often 
came by only to disappear into their room for a 
time. She heard her stepmother's voice as she 
answered the door, then a man's voice in an 
urgent reply.  There was a long pause, then 
Cindy was surprised to hear her name being 
called.
	"Cindy!"  Her stepmother squawked.  "Come 
here!" 
	She dropped the clothes and hurried out to 
the hall, her hands and forearms still covered 
in soapy water.  Cindy dared not hope, but she 
felt anxious all the same as she ran out into 
the den.  She stopped short as she saw the two 
men.  One was dressed in the cloak of a royal 
herald and looked vaguely familiar. Her gaze 
quickly passed him by as she saw the other man. 
Her head began to spin, and she fainted into the 
arms of her prince with a blissful smile.

The End



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