Everyone loves a fairytale, right?

I figure I’m not the first person to take on the fetishy Cinderella story, but I had a good time doing it anyway. Maybe I need series of short BDSM-y stories. I did once write a Little Red Riding Hood story, but it had more to do with coming of age and sexuality than anything else.*

I love fairytales. My very first professional sale was a retelling of the Swan Maiden story, and one of the first pieces of erotica I read was Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty series. I’m pretty sure that if you put a tower, a thorn forest, a comb that turns into a forest, and an unliving creature in it, I will read it.
*Looking back on it, it also says a lot of nasty things about female sexuality and predatory intent. I wouldn’t mind that except for the fact that I didn’t know that it said those things when I wrote about it. Sometimes I hate you, college-age Kannan.



Two weeks after I met her,‭ ‬three days after I knew her name,‭ ‬and a day after the banishment of her stepmother,‭ ‬Eleanor came to live at the castle.‭  ‬I had thought that she might struggle at court,‭ ‬but my new-minted princess had a country viciousness that made the courtiers walk cat-footed around her.

‭“‬I know a thing or two about plucking geese,‭ ‬I guess,‭” ‬she said in that flat lowland drawl,‭ ‬and the dangerous glint in her eye made me rouse uneasily.

Despite what the braver souls at court dared whisper,‭ ‬she was not without a dowry.‭  ‬They sat at the bottom of her wardrobe,‭ ‬cold and heavy as a Bridaen winter.‭  ‬When I first met her,‭ ‬they were winking from under the hem of her stiffly embroidered ball gown and I’d not been able to see how frigidly clear they were or the tiny knobs of lampworked blue that lined the uppers.‭

When I first met my bride properly,‭ ‬I uncharitably thought her shrunken because the sharp narrow heel‭ of ‬the shoes gave her at least three inches of height.‭  ‬Despite the imprint of the heel being smaller than a centime,‭ ‬she never staggered.

Eleanor knows me very well,‭ ‬and on her wedding night,‭ ‬her virgin’s blood drying rapidly on the counterpane,‭ ‬she winked at me mischievously.

‭“‬I guess I know what you like,‭” ‬she said,‭ ‬and she was out of the bed in a twinkle.‭

I watched her shapely backside in amusement,‭ ‬but then I saw her step first one foot,‭ ‬and then another into shining slippers that changed her from elflike to queenly.‭

She turned slowly,‭ ‬and I confess that I was quite without words.

Her hair was wild and black,‭ ‬long enough to fall down her body and tangle in the somewhat coarser hair between her legs. Her breasts,‭ ‬where I had left two carefully restrained love bites, were heavy and round,‭ ‬but my eyes could not budge from the diamond shine of her glass slippers.

‭“‬Come here,‭” ‬she said,‭ ‬as bluntly as she would call a dog,‭ ‬and like a dog,‭ ‬I went to my knees and crawled towards her.‭  ‬Before I could reach for them,‭ ‬she stepped back,‭ ‬teasingly,‭ ‬and her hand found my hair,‭ ‬grabbing up a handful and yanking me up painfully.

‭“‬No,‭ ‬not‭ ‘‬til you give me something nice,‭” ‬she said with a purr,‭ ‬and I didn’t even have time to ask me what she meant before she pressed my face between her legs. After a shocked pause, I started licking, and when she made an insistent noise, I used my teeth, too.

Somewhere between keeping my balance and trying to get even closer to her, my hand landed on the glass of her slippers.  The cold, glossy feel of it against my fingers got me aching hard inside of a moment and when her pleased purrs turned to shouts, I was already thinking of what a small woman in glass slippers could do to a man on his back.


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