by Jennifer Harrison
Author’s note: I hope you enjoy the retelling of this classic fairytale.
Cinderella strained every sinew as she climbed the slight incline, struggling to pull the great weight behind her. Her feet slipped on the path, and she felt the mud ooze between her toes, but she redoubled her efforts as she felt the lick of the whip across her back.
The beautiful young woman was naked, other than the leather straps of the body harness that held her painfully tight across her shoulders, chest, stomach and hips. The web contained two steel rings, through which her breasts had been forced, leaving them swollen and disfigured, discoloured by trapped blood. Her nipples were pinched by metal clamps, from which hung small silver bells, constantly tinkling as she struggled along.
Leather cuffs locked around her wrists were chained close to straps around her upper arms, keeping her arms bent and useless. Her head was also held in a harness, with leather panels on either side of her face preventing her seeing anything other than the dirt track in front of her, and her mouth was stretched around a cruel metal bit, tugged and twisted by reins to drive her in different directions.
The reins were held by one of the two grossly overweight women riding on the buggy that Cinderella was dragging behind her. The sulky had been used by Cinderella as a child, pulled by her favourite pony. Now, in a perverse irony, she had been forced to take the place of the beast of burden, while her stepsisters had crammed themselves onto the bench seat.
While one of them, Beatrice, steered the small carriage using the reins, her sister, Eugenie, gleefully used the riding whip to encourage the girl between the traces to greater efforts. Both women laughed at the sight of their pony’s back, her skin glistening with sweat and criss-crossed by a lattice of red welts on her shoulders and on her firm buttocks. They were also highly amused by the horsehair tail which swished from side to side on her rump, knowing it was attached to a thick wooden dowel, forced into the poor girl’s anus, and held in place by a leather strap which passed between her legs and was buckled painfully tight against the belt at her waist. The crotch strap was so tight that it pressed between the girl’s labia, presenting an obscene view to anyone looking at the tortured form locked into the shafts of the cart.
As the driving rain ran down her naked body, plastering her hair to her head and running off her tortured breasts, Cinderella wondered, once again, how it had ever come to this. Only a few months ago, she had been ecstatically happy, growing up in a loving household. Then her mother had died suddenly, her father had remarried with unseemly haste, and the nightmare had begun.
The woman he married was very haughty, and treated Cinderella with disdain bordering on disgust, although she was always icily polite to her in front of her father. She had two daughters of her own, and Cinderella thought of them as ‘the ugly sisters’ – they were physically unattractive and fat, but more than that, they were mean and cruel to her whenever they could get her alone.
As one of her first acts, her new stepmother had dismissed the servants and said that Cinderella must give up school and take over the household chores. She had protested to her father, but he meekly agreed with his new wife that Cinderella had to find herself a husband, and schooling was no way to do that! She needed to learn how to look after a home.
And so began a life of drudgery for the sad beauty, one filled with cooking and cleaning, washing and ironing, while the ugly sisters frittered away their time, and her father’s money, on balls and dresses.
One day, Cinderella’s stepmother was inspecting the standard of cleanliness and, as usual, was not happy.
“This is the final straw!” she fumed. “You are such a lazy girl! I have important guests coming today and this place must be spotless!”
She went to the wardrobe and, to Cinderella’s horror, returned clutching a riding crop.
“Take off your clothes!” the older woman commanded. Cinderella, close to tears, complied, removing her dress, chemise, shoes, stockings and pantaloons, finally standing naked, cowering before her stepmother. Without a moment’s hesitation, the older woman lashed out, striking the girl hard across her milky thigh and eliciting a heart-rending scream from her. The ugly sisters appeared to investigate the noise, and watched with undisguised pleasure as their mother hit their stepsister repeatedly, until she was in floods of tears and her buttocks were striped with ugly red weals from the crop.
“Now do it all again, and if it is not perfect, I will beat you again!”
Cinderella picked up her duster and began working frantically, as her stepmother gathered up the discarded clothes.
“You two, watch over her and make sure she works hard! Punish her if she stops!” She handed the riding crop to her daughters and left. The two young women giggled at Cinderella’s plight and their new power over her. It wasn’t long before they perceived a slackening of her work rate and took turns to ‘encourage’ her to greater efforts with the riding crop.
When, at last, the job was done to her stepmother’s satisfaction, she was ordered to start preparing dinner for the party to take place that evening, but was not given back her clothes, so had to continue in the nude. When everything was finally complete, Cinderella assumed she would be given back her clothes and either included in the party or, more likely, be made to serve as waitress. But both assumptions were wrong. Very wrong.
“Well,” her stepmother said once she had inspected the arrangements, “you must be tired, you’re excused for the evening. Girls, show your stepsister to her new quarters.”
The two women squealed with delight, and grabbed their younger stepsister, dragging her out of the house and out into the dark winter’s evening. Cinderella fought to free herself but they were older, bigger and stronger than her, and they twisted her arms up behind her back as they marched her into the stable block. They forced her into an empty stall, making her lie down on the dirty straw.
“Let me go!” the naked girl shouted as she struggled to escape their grasp. “You can’t keep me here! I’ll tell my father of this and he’ll put you in your place!”
Both women laughed, and continued to hold their victim down on the dirt floor.
“You are wrong on every count, you stupid girl!” the older sister, Eugenie, said, as Beatrice brought over a length of chain and began wrapping it around Cinderella’s body, pinning her arms to her side.
“We can and will keep you here as long as we want! Get used to your new home, Cinderella – you’ll only be in the house to cook, clean, and wash, and do anything else we want you to do. And as for telling your father, please go ahead – he is so much under the control of Mama that he will believe anything she tells him – and nothing you say!”
She heard the click of padlocks, and knew they had effectively rendered her helpless. But they were not finished with her. They dragged her to the side of the stall and locked another chain around her neck, then padlocked the other end to a heavy iron ring bolted to the woodwork.
“You know she’ll probably whine and howl all night, like a whelping bitch, don’t you?” Beatrice said to her sister.
“We can’t have that, now can we?” Eugenie replied.
“W-what are you going to do to me?” Cinderella asked fearfully. Eugenie leaned down, until her face was only inches from that of the frightened girl.
“Whatever we want to,” she breathed, chilling Cinderella to the bone. Beatrice had found an old rag on the floor, and now stuffed it into the chained girl’s mouth until she couldn’t force any more in. Eugenie wrapped a length of rope twice around her head and tied it tight to hold the gag in place. For good measure, they pulled a hessian sack over her head, leaving her blind, as well as helpless.
“Goodnight, Cinders,” she heard one of them say, “Sleep well, tomorrow is going to be a busy day!” She heard them laughing heartlessly as they left her alone. It was a long, cold night, and the young woman was awake throughout, sobbing and shivering, dreading what was to come.
The next morning, the two sisters released her from her bondage, but used the chains to manacle her wrists and ankles. They also chained a large rock to her waist to prevent their younger step-sibling from escaping – she would still have been able to outrun the two fat women, even while hobbled.
They set her to work cleaning out the stables, which was dirty and back-breaking work in the bitter cold. She was grateful later, when they took her into the warmth of the house to prepare their lunch, followed by sweeping and dusting. The sisters took great delight in tormenting poor Cinderella as she slaved away, having found bamboo canes in the garden and now employing them to strike the naked girl on her buttocks and thighs at any opportunity. She was constantly crying out as they beat her, weeping and begging them to stop.
As she prepared dinner for the rest of the family, Cinderella’s stomach growled – she had not been allowed to eat all day – and she pleaded with her tormentors for food, but they merely laughed, saying she could have the scraps off their plates before she washed them later.
She wondered how they had explained her absence from the table to her father, surely he would come to find out what had happened to her, see her desperate plight and rescue her from this terrible mistreatment?
Beatrice seemed to sense her surprise and disappointment when the empty plates and dishes were returned to the kitchen without any sign of her father.
“Papa asked after you at dinner,” she said, the smug triumphalism in her voice very evident, “but he seemed perfectly happy when we explained that you had decided you would, from now on, eat your meals in private.”
“Why would I want to do that?” the shocked girl asked in dismay.
“Mama just told him it was a ‘woman’ thing, and he accepted that without question.” Cinderella burst into tears as she saw her stepsister’s broad, and evil, grin. She had been completely abandoned by the only man she thought loved her! She sank to her knees in total disbelief, as the other woman stood over her, openly laughing at her despair.
Cinderella slept hungry that night, having only found a few scraps to eat, and many nights afterwards. The stable stall became her permanent residence, and her life of slavery continued, with the abuse she suffered becoming more and more degrading. She never saw her father and very rarely her stepmother – but she was always within the clutches of her heartless, sadistic stepsisters.
They eagerly adapted the bridle and harness in the stables once they found the child’s sulky, and decided it would be a wonderful idea to turn their beautiful slavegirl into their beautiful ponygirl. They drove her hard around the neighbouring forest, forcing her to pull them at least a mile a day, whatever the weather – baking sun, driving rain, freezing snow.
What dismayed the young girl more than anything was the attitude of the local people. Farmers, fieldworkers, even local landowners saw her being whipped by her cruel stepsisters as they trotted down the lanes and along the roads, but none seemed to think it unusual that a naked woman was being abused in this way, like a dumb animal. They occasionally stopped and spoke to the sisters, passing the time of day on trivial gossip, ignoring the poor girl sweating between the shafts of the buggy in front of them. It was as though the whole population around there was complicit in a conspiracy of silence, designed to cover up the systematic abuse in their midst.
One day, as Cinderella was on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, her stepmother burst in, excitement written across her normally stern features.
“Beatrice! Eugenie! Great news!” she cried out. “Prince Tremaine is holding a ball! Every woman between 18 and 30 in the kingdom is to attend, and he is going to choose his wife!”
The ugly sisters were ecstatic at the thought, and danced around the room, clearly convinced that the prince must choose one of them – a triumph of blind optimism, overweening ambition and a total lack of self-awareness over any sense of realism!
“When is the ball, Mama?” Eugenie asked.
“Tonight,” her mother replied, “so we don’t have a moment to lose.”
“Excuse me,” Cinderella said quietly. The three other women turned with identical expressions of disgust and disbelief as they looked down at the naked girl on her knees, chains hanging from her wrists and pooled on the floor between her ankles.
“Surely, that means I should attend the ball as well?”
Her stepmother hooted with laughter, and her two daughters joined in.
“Oh, you poor, deluded child!” she managed to say, still laughing. “The prince doesn’t want servant girls at his ball, and he certainly wouldn’t want a disgusting, filthy slave like you contaminating his palace! Girls, it seems your stepsister still hasn’t learnt her true place yet. Please teach her a lesson that she won’t forget, would you?”
With evil grins on their faces, they dragged the frightened girl out to the stables.
“Please,” she begged, now terrified as she felt her wrists being bound cruelly tight behind her back, followed by her elbows, “don’t hurt me!”
The two women laughed as they continued, unmoved by the desperate plea, applying nipple clamps, larger and stronger than they had used before. Beatrice tied strings to the clamps and attached the strings to a nail in the beam above Cinderella, pulling it tight, until the girl was having to stretch up to try and ease the pressure on her aching buds. Meanwhile, Eugenie tied a rope around her waist and passed it between her legs, making it into a crotch rope. She then added a large lead weight to the free end of the rope.
“Hopefully this will make you think before you speak out of turn again,” she said as she dropped the weight. The bound girl screamed as the rope suddenly pulled tight, ripping it’s coarse fibres across the tender flesh of her defenceless pussy, and burying it deep between her plump labia. The desperate scream was cut short as they stuffed her mouth with a dirty cloth and tied another across her face to hold it in place. Tears sprung to her eyes as they laughed at her evident discomfort.
“You have a choice, Cinders,” Eugenie said triumphantly, “if you squat down and rest the weight on the floor, you can relieve the pressure on your nether regions but, of course that will increase the tension on your poor little nips – such a dilemma! Do enjoy your evening, won’t you, as you imagine what a wonderful time we’re having!” With a final laugh at their helpless stepsister, they went back to the house to get ready.
Poor Cinderella wept and whined in tormented agony as she tried to cope with the pain inflicted alternately on her most sensitive parts. As the afternoon turned to evening, she knew she could expect no mercy, and would be left here to suffer while they went off to the ball to enjoy themselves.
She thought she must have become delirious when she saw a shimmering light in the stable and suddenly, in front of her, appeared a beautiful woman in a sparkling dress, holding a wand. She waved the wand at Cinderella and, in a shower of glittering stars, she found that all her bondage had disappeared and she was free!
“Who are you?” she asked in awe, before howling as the blood rushed back into her pinched flesh, causing her fresh pain.
“I am your fairy godmother,” the apparition replied, once the tortured girl had recovered, “and you SHALL go to the ball!”
“But I don’t have a thing to wear,” Cinders said, acutely aware of her nudity for the first time in a long time.
“No matter,” the fairy said airily, “just put on any old rags and I will turn them into a beautiful evening gown by magic!”
“No, you don’t understand, I literally have nothing to wear – apart from that horrible harness,” she said, pointing to the web of leather and steel hanging on the wall.
“No problem,” explained her fairy godmother, “put that on and I will transform it.”
Reluctantly, the naked girl stepped into the hated restraint and tightened it up. At the other’s insistence, she also donned the head harness and placed the bit between her teeth. Despite her garbled protests, she was also ordered to insert the butt plug, with its ridiculous tail. This was difficult, painful, and undignified, but eventually she had it done.
The magical being waved her wand at the strapped and gagged girl, surrounding her in dancing stars. When she looked down, she saw that the ugly harness had been transformed into a beautiful, full-length, black, shiny leather gown which held her slender frame perfectly, squeezing her in at all the right places, and presenting her impressive décolletage perfectly, with a daringly deep cleavage. The bridle had been turned into sparkling tiara and necklace of pearls, while the bit had become a diamond-encrusted retainer, instantly straightening and whitening her rather ugly teeth. The butt plug was still in place but, instead of feeling horribly invasive and uncomfortable, it seemed to suffuse Cinderella with an inner glow, making her feel wonderfully excited, and a little aroused.
“Now, we must sort out your transport,” the Fairy Godmother said, leading the way out into the courtyard. She saw the little sulky standing there and, in a trice, it had magically become a crystal carriage, fit for a princess!
“But what about the horses?” the young woman asked. At that moment, the door to the house opened, and her father, stepmother, and two stepsisters emerged.
“What is the meaning of this?” her stepmother began, but a moment later the wand had waved, and Cinderella was amazed to see the women, naked, harnessed and bridled, in the traces of the carriage, while her father, in coach driver’s livery, was sitting on the bench, looking bemused.
“Now, off you go,” the fairy said, ushering her into the carriage, “but remember, on the final stroke of midnight, the magic will wear off, and everything will be as it was!”
As she sat down, Cinderella heard a crack of the whip, a stifled scream, and the carriage shot forward at a startling pace. She leaned out of the window and watched as her father, clearly bewitched, drove the women on, lashing their exposed rumps without mercy. She smiled at this delicious reversal of fortunes.
At the ball, all eyes were on the beautiful, mysterious girl in the stunning leather dress. The prince was smitten from the moment he set eyes on her, and danced every dance with her. As the evening wore on, the two young people gazed deep into each other’s eyes, and the rest of the world ceased to exist, only the music mattered as they twirled and waltzed the night away.
It was only as the clock was striking the midnight hour that Cinderella came out of her trance, realising her perilous situation.
“Oh, your Highness, I must leave immediately,” she said, dropping a low curtsy and backing towards the huge doors.
“Nonsense, my dear,” the prince smiled, “the night is yet young, and I would learn more of your past… and your future!”
“Alas! I cannot stay a moment longer!” she cried, turning and running for the doors as she heard the clock continuing to strike. At the merest signal from the prince, the guards on the door moved forward to block her escape and grabbed her arms. She struggled frantically, but could not break their hold and, as the last chime faded away, she saw the stars surrounding her once more. The guards, unnerved by the magical display, thrust her away, and she fell to the floor. By the time she had got to her knees and looked up at the prince standing over her, her fine dress was once again no more than a tight leather harness over her naked body, and her head was trapped in the bridle and bit.
As the whole court stared down at the naked girl and she stared up at her prince, the doors burst open, and there was her stepmother, closely followed by the ugly sisters and her father, all dressed in their fine clothes.
“Your Highness!” her stepmother cried out, pointing down at Cinderella, “this… this witch has cast a spell on us and the court! As you see, she is nothing but a common slavegirl!”
The prince seemed to assess the situation carefully before he spoke.
“And yet, madam, slavery is illegal in this kingdom, is it not?” he said, his voice firm and commanding. “Furthermore, it seems as though you have treated this beautiful young woman worse than a dumb animal. Guards! Take them away!”
And so it came to pass that the father was imprisoned, while the evil stepmother and her two daughters were made to work in the fields, pulling a plough like oxen.
Meanwhile, Cinderella became ‘Princess’ Anastasia – her real name – and was loved and revered by the prince as the finest of his string of ponygirls. Her harness and bridle were made of the finest calf-skin leather, while her bit, nipple clamps and butt plug were fashioned by the greatest silversmith in the land. On her head, she wore plumes of ostrich feathers, and on her feet, boots which formed a perfect hoof, complete with genuine horseshoes. They looked and sounded magnificent as she trotted through the cobbled streets of the city, pulling the prince’s buggy, watched and cheered by his adoring subjects.
And so, they all live happily ever after. Well, the prince did…
Copyright© 2012 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.