7 comments/ 24337 views/ 25 favorites Cinder Girl Ch. 01 By: peaches07 Madame Le Turad snapped shut her ledger with a sigh of annoyance. She couldn't deny the state of the manor's financial situation any longer. She'd slowly been dwindling down the money left to her by her husband ever since he'd passed, with no real means to rebuild them. He'd been in the trading business, and very good at what he did, but the nature of his business meant there was no shop or other facility for her to take over and continue making money, and Madame Le Turad had neither the head nor the patience for trading. "Stazia! Drianne!" She called, summoning her daughters. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited. Her silly daughters, the byproduct of her first marriage, were her only real hope of pulling out of this financial slump. If at least one of them could marry well, standards of decent society would require that the husband keep his mother and sister off the street. Stazia ambled in, in her usual lethargic manner. Madame Le Turad indicated she sit on the couch with a silent wave of her hand, and Stazia complied without a remark. She'd always been the most compliant of her two daughters, largely due to her laziness. She just couldn't be bothered to fight against anything that didn't require actual work on her part. Blonde and buxom, she resembled Madame more closely than Drianne, but only in looks. Drianne made her way into Madame's sitting room, her face quizzical. She took after her father physically, her bright red hair a constant reminder, but Madame flattered herself that Drianne's quick wit was entirely from her own genes. "Sit," she commanded Drianne. With one arched brow, Drianne adjusted her cumbersome skirts and sat next to Stazia. "Girls, you must be brave. The day we've been fearing is swiftly approaching. Your stepfather left with me hardly anything, as you well know, and though it has lasted through your adolescence, the money is nearly gone. In short girls, we will soon be destitute. You know of course, that the easiest way to remedy the situation is for one of you to marry." She eyed her daughters. They were both attractive in their own way; if she was lucky she'd have both of them married off before the coffers ran dry. She'd put only minimal effort into before, but now she was left with no choice, and they were both of age. Drianne and Stazia were both nodding. They'd heard this before. Stazia was too lazy to have put efforts in on her own, and though Drianne had looked into the matter a bit on her own, she hadn't found a candidate suitably rich and handsome enough to suit her needs. If a handsome husband couldn't be found, she was willing to settle for rich and old, that he might soon pass and leave her a very comfortable widow, but so far none had presented himself. "In the meantime, girls, I'm going to need your older jewels that you no longer wear, and perhaps your older gowns as well. We'll need something to sell for now to keep up us living as we are now. We can't have suitors thinking we're paupers." "Mother!" objected Stazia. "How will we catch a husband in rags with no jewels?" She pouted, very put out at the thought of losing her things. "Surely there must be something else we can sell, Mother," put in Drianne. "Well there isn't!" snapped Madame. "I've already sold off a number of small things around the manor, though you're both so self-absorbed it's no wonder you haven't noticed. There is nothing left short of -" Madame paused, as a delicious solution presented itself to her. "On second thought, Drianne, you're right... There IS something else we can sell." A cold smile spread across her face, and even her daughters felt chilled. ** ** Gabriella rose early, as she always did, the faint rays of dawn only just beginning to lick her pillow as she dressed herself in the crisp morning air. It was always chilly in the morning here in her tower, even in the summer. She dressed quickly, the cold air seeping in from between cracks in the planks of her wall and the floor. She eyed her skimpy blankets with longing, wishing she could curl up in them and sleep longer, but that wasn't an option. Her stepmother, Madame Le Turad, would have her horsewhipped if Gabriella wasn't up and about, preparing breakfast and lighting fires. The manor used to have many servants when her father was alive, but as their fortunes had dwindled, so had her position in the household. Now there was just Gabriella to serve as maid and scullery girl to the woman who came from the village to cook luncheon, tea, and supper. Breakfast always fell on Gabriella's shoulders, but as she'd shown no aptitude for cooking, her stepmother and stepsisters had learned to subsist on boiled eggs and toast or porridge. Not without complaint, but after they'd sampled too many of her disastrous failures that no amount of scoldings or threats seemed to prevent, Madame Le Turad had thrown up her hands and resigned herself to meager breakfasts. Madame ran a very tight ship as far as servants were concerned, and though Gabriella's father had been master of this manor, he'd left everything to Madame, who'd bullied Gabriella into servitude, leaving her no other option but to leave. She couldn't bring herself to leave her childhood home, even if she did now have a reduced position and quarters. On the whole, she knew what Madame expected and so long as Gabriella followed it to the letter, things went smoothly. It was hard work, but she saw no alternative. Drianne enjoyed lording over her, and had taken to it immediately. When Madame had first insisted that Gabriella begin helping out with the chores, Drianne had gone out of her way to make messes and create more work for Gabriella. She still sometimes did, but more out of habit now. As the years had gone on and Gabriella had grown more and more disheveled in appearance, Drianne seemed to grow bored with her little game. Stazia wasn't too bad, she was too lazy to bother creating extra work. Sometimes her laziness created extra work in and of itself as she would call Gabriella to fetch her things so she didn't have to stir from her bed or couch. Always Gabriella obeyed without complaint. Madame had her whipped for insolence years ago when she had dared object, and the tight scars criss-crossing her back served as a constant reminder to her to hold her tongue. Sometimes she dreamed of running away, but she had no idea where she would go or what she would do. She had no real skills, other than cleaning, but real, paying maid positions were hard to come by, at least any in reputable houses. Her most cherished fantasy involved Madame and her daughters leaving the manor, whether due to marriage or perhaps perishing in a terrible accident, and leaving Gabriella behind to straighten things out. She felt guilty wishing death upon them though, so her dreaming usually consisted of one of them getting married. Or re-married; though older, Madame was still a handsome woman, and she knew far more in the ways of flirtation and seduction than either of her daughters. With a sigh, Gabriella shook her head to clear it, and went downstairs to start the fires. The sun was creeping up over the horizon, and she admired the beauty of it as she put flame to tinder. Once the kitchen fire was lit, she put a kettle over it to boil, then quietly made her way into the bedrooms to light the fires. Drianne had immediately claimed Gabriella's room at the beginning of her servitude. It was a beautiful room, with a large window and a cleverly carved bed frame that suggested the bed was nestled among wood-colored leaves. Gabriella had loved it, and Drianne had coveted it as soon as she saw it. Whether it was the room itself or the fact that it belonged to Gabriella was unknown. In any case, it hardly mattered now. Gabriella carefully lit the fire in what was now Drianne's room, not wanting to wake her. She was a very unpleasant person in the morning when woken, and over the years Gabriella had learned to avoid it. Drianne was sprawled across the bed, her heavy breathing an indication that she still slumbered. Closing the door quietly behind her, Gabriella lit the fire in Madame's and Stazia's room before returning to the kitchen to prepare the breakfast trays. With longing, she remembered how once upon a time, servants had been bringing breakfast trays to her and lighting the fires while she slept. Those days were gone, and would never come again. Now she was the girl who put the jam into little pots instead of spreading it on her toast from the pots. How her life had changed! It wasn't that she minded the work, exactly, but oh, now nice it would be to sleep in once in a while and take a day off! Propriety decreed that Madame be brought her breakfast try first, so Gabriella arranged things just as she liked it, making sure not to spill a drop, and knocked softly before entering, hoping Madame was already awake. As usual, she was, and waiting for her tea. This time she stopped Gabriella before she left. "Ella," she said, using the shortened nickname that she knew Gabriella hated. Her father had called her 'Gabby', which she'd loved, but she'd never wanted to be anything but Gabriella to her step-family. "I will be requiring something extra of you today. After breakfast, when you have completed your usual chores, I wish you to bathe and present yourself to me in the sitting room. And do please put some effort into your bathing, dear, one would think you slept among the cinders of the fireplace." Gabriella blushed, knowing that she usually was streaked with ashes, though why today her appearance mattered, she could only guess. She was burning with curiosity, but only curtsied as she left. "Yes, Madame." She was distracted the rest of the morning, Stazia bellowing at her for being a clumsy oaf as Gabriella spilled tea on her breakfast tray, narrowly missing Stazia's bed. Her chores seemed to drag on even longer than usual, but at last the the last pot was scrubbed clean and the floors swept. She bathed as she always did: with a little bucket of cold water fetched up from the well and a rag. This time she tried to take more care to scrub and remove the ash and dirt. Her bare feet seemed to be perpetually stained. Her last pair of slippers had fallen to pieces in the spring and Madame had not yet seen fit to replace them. There was a tub that Madame and the girls used for bathing, requiring Gabriella to haul pot after pot of heated water to fill it. How much easier it would be to remove the dirt and dust if she was allowed to soak in a heated tub! But she did the best she could, and hoped she was presentable enough to Madame for whatever she had in mind. Perhaps Madame was finally going to buy new clothes for her! Her tired old rags were falling apart and soon she would be virtually naked. Once she was dressed in the best of her remaining outfits, she made her way to the sitting room, to find Madame and both her daughters waiting. Gabriella curtsied on entrance and stood before them, anxiously waiting. "I thought Mother told you to bathe, Cinderella," mocked Drianne. "Did no one ever teach you to wash your face?" Her harsh laugh rung in Gabriella's ears as she reached a hand to her face and found to her dismay that she had indeed missed a spot of ash, as evident on her fingers. Stazia joined in laughing, though Madame kept a stern countenance. "You have grown." Madame Le Turad studied her, then strode forward, her hand on Gabriella's arm holding her still when she normally would have backed away out of deference. Madame examined her arm, put her hands about Gabriella's waist, and to her shock, Madame raised a hand to her chest, feeling her breasts. "Open your mouth," said Madame, and Gabriella obeyed, bewildered. Surely Madam only wanted to gauge her size for some new clothes, so why look in her mouth? Madame examined Gabriella's teeth until she was satisfied. She stepped back again. "Disrobe." Her voice was icy and firm. Gabriella was shocked at the command. "Here? Now?" "Now, or I shall remind you what happens to insolent servants." Fingers trembling, Gabriella slowly began to extricate herself from her rags, her humiliation evident in her burning red face. Why was it necessary to disrobe in front of her stepsisters, even if Madame needed to see her body to estimate clothing sizes? Of course she was not expecting tailor made outfits, she knew Madame would not spare that expense, but the cheaper, ready-made outfits she'd seen other servant girls wearing seemed to allow for a generous flexibility in body size. Gabriella dropped her ragged dress to the floor, trying to cover herself with her hands. "Put your hands at your side!" barked Madame, and Gabriella hung her head in shame as she stood naked and completely uncovered before her step-family. Madame eyed her a while before ordering Gabriella to turn around. She gasped as she felt Madame's cold hand on her buttock, testing its size. "Very well," said Madame at last. "You may put your clothing on." Drianne and Stazia snickered, and as soon as she was halfway dressed, Gabriella fled from the room without even a curtsy, embarrassed and nearly in tears. Why did Madame have to be so cruel? ** ** Much to Gabriella's relief, there was no further mention of the incident over the next few days. She still clung to a faint hope that a proper servant's uniform might appear, something that would at least provide her more cover when the colder weather of winter began. Her current rags barely came to her knee anymore, the pieces of the once long skirt having been worn down to the point of tearing off. She supposed it didn't really matter, she never left the manor for anyone to see the indecent state of her clothes, but it would be nice to own something that wasn't full of holes or in pieces, even if was a garment that cemented her descent into servitude. A week after the incident, Madame ordered the tub filled for a bath. There was nothing at all unusual in her request, but to Gabriella's shock, once she had finished filling the tub, Madame demanded that she climb in! "Don't stand there gawping like a fish, get in," demanded Madame, and once again Gabriella found herself undressing in front of Madame, though thankfully Drianne and Stazia were not present. Had she done such a poor job bathing with her bucket of water that Madame felt she required a full bath? Her shyness over her nudity was easier to overcome now as she thought of soaking in that lovely warm water and being finally, gloriously clean! It had been so long since she'd felt that way. A bucket of cold water could only get one so far. Slipping under the warm embrace of the water, Gabriella sighed with happiness. This was the best thing that had happened to her in years. Madame, however, did not look pleased. She rolled up her sleeves and reached toward Gabriella, dunking her head under the water. Gabriella came up sputtering. "Your hair is filthy. It'll never come clean if you don't get it under the water." She glared meaningfully. Gabriella nodded her understanding and tipped her head back so only her face poked out above the water. It suited her fine, she'd been longing to give her hair a proper wash. Her stepmother appeared again, brandishing the harsh soap that Gabriella used on the pots and pans, and without a word, grabbed Gabriella's foot, jerking her head back under the water as she pulled. She scrubbed none too gently at her foot, and Gabriella fought back a grimace as she focused on keeping her face out so she could breathe. At least she would be clean. The scrubbing felt like it was removing the top layer of her skin, but at least that meant the dirt and soot would be gone as well. She gritted her teeth and endured Madame's harsh scrubbing. Madame saved her hair for last, bunching it around in a tangle that Gabriella knew would take her hours to comb out. When at last it was cleaned to Madame's satisfaction, Gabriella made to rise from the tub, only to have Madame stop her again. "Get on all fours," she ordered. Gabriella stared at her, not comprehending. "Get on your hands and knees!" she commanded again, the irritation in her voice a warning. Reluctantly, Gabriella rolled over into the required position, her breasts just brushing the surface of the water. Madame took a cloth and more of the soap, and to Gabriella's horror, she reached between Gabriella's legs and began to wash her there! As if Gabriella wasn't perfectly capable of taking care of that herself! Mortified, she held her position as Madame harshly scrubbed in between her buttocks, her face flaming. Finally Madame declared her clean. Gabriella made to put her ragged garments back on, but Madame stopped her. "Tonight you will be accompanying me to a very special party. I have an outfit you will wear." Gabriella's heart leapt a little at the words. She was going to go to a party! She was being allowed to leave the manor! Of course it was only in the capacity of being Madame's servant, but still. Perhaps she was to pretend that she was Madame's lady's maid. She had years ago when the manor had hosted important guests that Madame wanted to impress. Madame bid her to wait, and returned shortly with the garments. Gabriella was surprised to see it included a corset. Corsets were fashionable, but rarely worn by servants. Madame soon had her laced in so tight she could barely breathe. Gabriella knew better than to ask for it to be loosened, for Madame seemed quite pleased with her work, spanning Gabriella's cinched in waist with her hands. Her objections could not be helped, however, when Madame presented her with the barest scrap of lace that was to serve as her undergarments! "It's not decent!" protested Gabriella, but a swift slap from Madame silenced her on the matter and she slipped it on, feeling even more naked than she had before. The dress was altogether too pretty, an ivory sheath that skimmed the corset-created curves and clung to her hips and buttocks. Why was Madame dressing her in finery? What was going on? Her cheek still stinging from the slap, Gabriella held her tongue. Madame must have some sort of plan, and when she was ready, she would tell her. Madame combed out Gabriella's hair, causing her to tear up at the swift jerks and the pain it caused. She was ordered to leave it down to dry, and sent to the sitting room to await the coach. Her fingers twitched nervously. Why was her stepmother giving her free time to sit? It must be because she was afraid of Gabriella dirtying the dress, for normally her stepmother worked her from sunup to sundown. Her legs and buttocks felt uncomfortably bear without her usual undergarments. Madame swept into the sitting room in a cloud of jasmine, her signature perfume. She ordered Gabriella up and out the door, and they were soon ensconced in the coach and on their way. Drianne and Stazia had pouted over not being allowed to go, but Madame had been very firm that they stay behind, making Gabriella even more curious. Normally the spoiled girls were denied nothing. Where could they be headed that Madame would not take them to? They rode on for a good hour, Madame pursing her lips and gazing pointedly out the window, discouraging questions. It suited Gabriella well, she was only too happy to look out the other window and watch the world whizzing by, hungrily absorbing the sights of new faces and buildings, and the beautiful scenery of the trees. She tried to soak it all in, not knowing when her next outing might be, if ever. The coach slowed to a stop in front of a very large, grandiose mansion, surrounded by many other coaches in its circular drive. The driver stopped near the door to let out Madame and Gabriella, then headed further down to find a place to park the carriage. Madame grabbed Gabriella's arm and hauled her forcibly up the steps while Gabriella gaped in awe at the size of the place. The grounds were impeccably manicured as well, and her head swiveled back and forth as she admired it all. Cinder Girl Ch. 01 They were greeted at the door by a butler, who took one look at Gabriella and directed them down a hall to the lounge. Madame sped through the halls so fast Gabriella barely had time to look around, but what she could see was sumptuous, decadent, and yet tasteful. Every piece of furniture was artfully arranged so that the overall effect was pleasing, yet on its own each piece might have been a work of art. Rich tapestries hung over the walls, and plush carpets silenced their footsteps as they headed to the lounge. A stern looking woman waited outside the door, and Madame passed Gabriella off to her with only a nod before taking off again. Without a word, the woman placed on hand on Gabriella's arm and escorted her inside. She could not have been more surprised at the sight that greeted her inside. There were nine other girls inside, each of them dressed in an almost identical ivory-colored sheath, and not one of them could possible be over five and twenty. They were all lovely; half of them were sitting on the settee with their hair coiffed and cheeks rouged, and the other half in chairs near the fire, where ladies maids were busy curling and twisting and pinning their hair. The woman was ushering Gabriella to a vacant seat neat the fire, and before she could quite comprehend what was happening another woman descended on her with a comb and started in on her hair. "Wait," she said, finally finding her voice. "There must be some mistake." They must have her confused with one of Madame's daughters The woman from the door arched a brow and consulted her ledger. "Gabriella? Property of Madame Le Turad?" Property of. The words made her shiver. She supposed it was true in the eyes of the law. She was no better than an indentured servant, but she'd never thought of herself as property before. "Well?" persisted the door woman, and Gabriella nodded slowly. "But what am I doing here?" she asked, hoping this woman would be more forthcoming than Madame. The woman laughed and shook her head. "You're here for the auction, of course!" "The...auction?" Gabriella faltered. "Madame means to sell me?" How could she do that? She knew how much Gabriella's home meant to her! The woman just laughed again. "Oh no, dear," she said. Gabriella's heart slowed a little. "She's not selling you." Gabriella breathed out a sigh of relief, only to have her very breath ripped from her throat by the woman's next statement. "She's selling your virginity." ** Cinder Girl Ch. 02 Gabriella sat on the couch, her hair perfectly coiffed, her cheeks and even her lips rouged. She'd caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and had hardly recognized herself. The lady's maid had even put a smudge of kohl around her eyes, and truthfully Gabriella had been so transfixed at the sight of herself that for a moment she had forgotten the horror of the auction. Now, sitting down without a strange face to admire, her mind was completely stuck on it. Her virginity. Had Madame become so desperate, or was she just being cruel? No wonder she hadn't told Gabriella where they were headed. The other girls sat by, seeming as dumbstruck as she. Had they known before they arrived? And how could such practices still exist in a civilized country? It was no use in pretending that she was not a virgin; Madame knew that she had not been out of the manor in years, and aside from the ancient coachman who tended the horses, male visitors were few and far between. She considered trying to escape. If ever there was a time to run away, it was now. The woman at the door seemed to stand guard, and Gabriella felt certain that if she dared make a break for it, an alarm would be raised, and she would be brought back immediately, and perhaps beaten for the attempt. So not now, she decided. She would wait until a better opportunity presented itself to make her escape, but she would attempt to make one. She'd been a loyal servant to Madame and her two daughters, but this was asking too much. She felt a sense of betrayal at Madame's actions. For years she'd toiled, worked as hard as any servant or slave, and received not a word of thanks. Forced to serve the ersatz mistress of the manor, when by rights it should have been hers, and now this. Madame would give her virginity to the highest bidder, without so much as a by-her-leave. She had very few possessions now, and though she did not often have daydreams of the romantic nature, she'd assumed that her virtue would be given to someone she loved, if not a husband. Now, that choice was being taken from her, Gabriella's own body left in the hands of a mistress who was at best indifferent. If she had not been so numb from shock at the whole situation, she might have cried. As it was, she only sat and stared straight ahead of her, contemplating her fate and wondering when an opportunity for escape might arise. If all else failed, she certainly was not going to part with her virtue without a fight, even if she was punished for it. The woman at the door beckoned toward the ivory-clad girls. "Come, it is time." Wordlessly, all the girls rose and followed the woman as she led them down the hall. Gabriella too followed silently, but her eyes were darting all around, taking in the floor plan of the great house. She tried to commit every detail to memory, so when the time came for her escape she would not get lost. Where she would go or what she would do once she was free, she did not know, but it had to be better than this. The girls were led into what must have been a ballroom under normal circumstances, though now there were chairs set across the floor in rows, and masked gentlemen filled the chairs. No dancing was taking place here tonight, thought Gabriella ruefully. From behind the identical black masks each man wore, she could feel their gazes upon her and the other girls. She might have blushed had the circumstances not been so dire. She hazarded a glance around the room. There were a few women scattered along the outskirts of the room, but it was mostly men. There was no sign of Madame Le Turad, though with the black masks that even the women wore it was hard to say for certain. Would Madame stay and witness Gabriella's humiliation to the finish, or would she leave and return to the manor to await the money? Knowing Madame, either could be possible. The girls were led to the front of the room, off to one side. There was a podium set up in the middle that Gabriella assumed must be for the auctioneer. How barbaric this all was! At the sight of the girls, any of the gentlemen milling about took their seats. A man approached the auctioneer's podium, and Gabriella realized it was about to begin. The auctioneer made some opening statements, but she was too nervous, the blood pounding hard in her ears, to listen. All too soon, the first girl was brought up to the front by the podium. The door-woman held her tightly by the arm, and another unmasked man stood close by, appearing ready to pounce. That must be the guard, she thought. That would make her plans of escape more difficult. Still, things weren't over if she was 'sold', an opportunity to make a break for it might still arise before the true horror began. The girl up front sniffled and hung and her head, only to have the door-woman jerk it upright for the gentlemen to see. "And now, the examination!" boomed the auctioneer, and Gabriella noticed for the first time a long, low table positioned near the podium. They forced the poor girl to lie down on it, and then her skirts were crudely yanked up, revealing her legs and the scrap of fabric that was serving the girls as underwear. An unmasked woman stepped forward, kneeling in front of the girl, and pulled the undergarment aside to insert her fingers inside the girl! Gabriella squirmed with discomfort for the poor girl, and dreaded her turn. The woman conducted her business quickly, turned to the auctioneer, and nodded. "There we have it, gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "A bona fide virgin! Now, shall we start the bidding at fifty silvers?" Fifty silvers! No wonder Madame was selling her; the money earned from this would be enough to keep the household running another year, and quite comfortably. The bidding increased, and ultimately the girl 'sold' for two hundred and ten silvers. That seemed like madness to Gabriella. How could the possibility of deflowering a virgin be so enticing to these men? No doubt they were all extremely wealthy and the money meant little to them, but it seemed such a strange thing to purchase. The girl was ushered to the other side of the room, and another ivory-clad girl was brought forth. This girl was beautiful even before the maids had started making her up. Her golden hair hung in perfect curls, her blue eyes were large and fringed with thick lashes, and her body was ripe with curves. She sold for over three hundred silvers. There were two girls in line ahead of Gabriella. She cast her eyes about, looking for anything that might serve as a distraction so that she might make her escape, but she could find nothing. Every door was blocked by men in uniform, probably butlers or footmen. How could they stand by and watch this? They had to know that the girls being 'sold' were closer to their own status than that of the men doing the purchasing. It seemed like a betrayal of their own people. The blonde girl was managing a smile as she was led to the far side of the room, her tresses bouncing softly with each step. "How can she smile?" whispered Gabriella, mostly to herself, but the girl in front of her heard her and turned. "She submitted herself," the girl said, her eyes wide. "What?" Gabriella was so shocked she almost forgot to whisper. "Why would you do that?" "You heard the prices we're fetching. If I could have sold my own virginity and kept the money, I would too. I'm Diane, by the way." "Gabriella," she introduced herself. "Your master must have brought you for this then," said Diane. "Mine too." "Mistress," corrected Gabriella. "I had no idea what this was until that woman told me." "Unfortunately I've known for a while. My master enjoyed hanging it over my head as a threat, and now he's finally made good on it." Diane's face twisted into a sad combination of regret and anger. The girl ahead of Diane was being brought up front now, and her shrieking cries disrupted the whispered conversation. "Please!" the girl was crying. "Please, let me go! Master!" she called, "Please, I will behave, please anything but this!" the crowd laughed hard at the miserable girl, who had to be held down by the guard for her examination. In the end she fetched the lowest price so far, a mere eighty silvers. "Her master will not be happy with her," observed Diane. "No doubt she'll be beaten for selling at such a low price." Gabriella watched the crowd, laughing at the poor girl's misery, and vowed silently that she would not give them any satisfaction of enjoying hers. She would walk out with her head held high, and continue to look for escape opportunities. Then Diane was being escorted up, and she cast one last glance behind her at Gabriella, the two exchanging sad little smiles. Gabriella wanted to look away out of politeness, as her new friend was examined, but her cold horror at the whole ordeal kept her transfixed. The woman was feeling between Diane's legs. She looked at the auctioneer and shook her head. "Damaged goods, gents!" called the auctioneer, and Diane was hauled upright and led to the doors. "Wait, I'm not!" voiced Diane, her eyes wide with terror. "I'm a virgin, I am!" She was hustled out the door quickly, her frightened gaze meeting Gabriella's eyes briefly before she was out of sight around the corner. Gabriella felt bad for Diane, but she couldn't spare the time to be thinking about her now. The door-woman had taken her arm and was pulling her up front. She was forced to stand for a moment and let the crowd get a look at her, then she was being forced down on the long, low table and her skirts were flung upward. She could feel her cheeks burning with her embarrassment as her legs were displayed for all the room to see, then the woman was putting fingers inside her, in her most intimate place. Gabriella felt a twinge of discomfort and then it was over, the woman nodding at the auctioneer. "Let's start the bidding at fifty silvers!" called the auctioneer, and then things moved swiftly. All the men looked alike with their masks and suits, and she could hardly tell the difference between them. There were two that seemed especially determined to have her; their paddles waved in the air often. She supposed in a certain light it was flattering, these gentlemen vying for her. Had she consensually submitted herself to make the money it might even have been considered a compliment, but as she'd had no choice in the matter, all she could think was that these men were monsters. Number 17 waved his paddle at the two hundred mark, and Number 35, her other admirer, was right behind him with two hundred and ten. She could practically feel their gazes burning through her dress. Two hundred and twenty, now, then thirty. Should she be hoping for one to win out over the other? Knowing nothing about them or their personalities other than that they were willing to pay for virginity, she supposed it didn't matter. She hoped that if she was not able to make her escape as she planned, she would end up in the hands of a someone more kindly. It was doubtless going to be an unpleasant experience regardless, but she knew some men were cruel and liked to hit women. Feeling like chattel, Gabriella was led to the side of the room after Number 17 closed out the bidding at two hundred and seventy silvers. So, her virginity officially belonged to someone else now. It was strange to think about. It was such an intagible thing to own. She wondered if the deed would be completed tonight or if arrangements were made for the future. If there was to be no escape for her, she would rather get it over with than wait and dread it for days. Then again, she might have more of a chance to escape if it was put off for a few days. Another girl was up front now and the focus was off of Gabriella. She studied Number 17 from her position. He was watching the girl up front rather than her, and she wondered if he meant to purchase more than one girl's virginity tonight. Surely one was enough to satisfy any man! Perhaps he was looking at the other girls and regretting his choice. There were prettier girls here, and girls better endowed. Though Madame hadn't starved her, she'd never allowed Gabriella to eat enough to develop too many womanly curves, and her hips and thighs were slim and not so plush and inviting as the girl presently up front. The rest of the auction went by too quickly, and before she'd had time to think more about fleeing, it was all over and the winning bidders were approaching the stand to make their payments. Number 17 seemed to have a conversation with the auctioneer before a pouch was handed over, presumably the money he owed. The auctioneer was nodding and seemed to be giving the man directions, pointing up and over his head. So, thought Gabriella, it was to be here then. Right now, in this house. Well, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of begging for mercy. She would endure this, since she had no choice, but she would not return to Madame. Once she was finished and sent back on her way, she would run. Far, far away from Madame and the horrors of the evening. Number 17 approached her. "Gabriella." His voice was too oily, his grin nasty, and her heart sank into her shoes. So, he was not going to be a kindly gentleman. "You should feel very honored," continued the man. "You've been chosen for something special." She stared at him, not allowing her face to betray her thoughts. Special, indeed! They could call it what they liked, but this was no honor. "Come with me," said the man. "We'll get started right away." She swallowed hard, trying to subdue her nerves. Number 17 took hold of her arm and began to pull her forward. After a second of resisting, she followed. What was the use in fighting back here? There were guards everywhere. If she was going to have any chance at it, it would be later, when it was just the two of them. Perhaps she could catch him off guard. They moved through the corridors and up the stairs of the mansion til they came to a set of double doors. To her surprise, Number 17 knocked on the door and it was answered by another man. "Is he ready?" asked Number 17. "Yes. Is this her?" asked the man behind the door. Number 17 nodded, and the other man took Gabriella's arm and ushered her inside. Number 17 remained outside, and she felt even more confused about what was happening. Had Number 17 only purchased her for another? Were they taking turns? What was going on? "Sit," instructed the man, indicating a chair, and she sat. "You have been selected for a very great honor." She scoffed inwardly. Not this drivel again. "Tonight you will lay with His Royal Majesty, the crown prince." Her heart skipped a beat at his last words. The prince? What would the prince want with her? He could have any number of girls willingly throwing themselves in his bed, so why would he deign to purchase one? "His Majesty delights in pleasing women of all classes," continued the man, as if he could read Gabriella's mind, "And particularly considers himself an expert at deflowering virgins, though he is always desirous of practicing his love-making on those girls who have no connections to make it worth his while, ordinarily. That's where you come in. Now listen carefully. The prince considers himself a master lover, and if you don't appear to be enjoying yourself, things will go very badly for you. It's important that his Highness be pleased, above all else, and that he believes he has pleasured you. Do you understand?" Gabriella shook her head. It was all happening too fast. The Prince? And how was she to know how to please him, or give the impression that she was pleased? She'd never done this before, never even talked about it with anyone. The most she'd seen was the old stallion they used to have mounting a filly. Her head was reeling. The Prince! She had no hope of escaping now, the prince wouldn't travel without guards, who were sure to stop her, not to mention she'd be put to death if she dared attack the prince to make her escape. The guard sighed. "Look, just toss your head about a lot, and moan, tell him how big he is and how good he feels, and you'll be fine. Don't worry," he said, seeing her frightened face, "It won't take too long, and it'll only hurt for a minute. His Majesty considers himself a master of pleasure, so at least you can rest assured he won't intentionally hurt you. You could do a lot worse." Even Gabriella could see the truth in that, and she nodded, grateful to the guard even as she hated him for being a part of this. There was no escape now. This was going to happen. She tried to mentally prepare herself for it. How bad could it be? Couples did it for fun, repeatedly. If it was so awful, no woman would consent to it more than once, although in situations like this the woman's consent was irrelevant. The guard patted her arm in a feeble attempt to comfort her. "You'll be alright," he said. "His majesty will be along shortly, so get ready. Do you need to use the ladies' room?" Gabriella shook her head. She'd been to nervous to eat or drink anything all evening, and in any case the door-woman had marched her down the stairs to the washroom before she'd been allowed to sit and wait on the couch. "I'll leave you to here collect yourself, but I'll be right outside the door. Don't try to run away; there's no other door and the window is three stories up. You'd break both your legs." A glance out the window confirmed this, and Gabriella nodded sadly, acknowledging his words. She could feel the beginnings of tears springing to her eyes and blinked them back ferociously. "Look," said the guard, "Here." He extended a flask toward her. She took it cautiously, uncertain what he wanted her to do. "Take a good drink, or better yet two. It'll help make things easier." She'd never had anything stronger than much-watered down wine as a young girl, so the stinging, burning taste of the liquor made her gasp. "Good, another one," said the guard, and tipped the mouth of the flask toward her again. Sputtering, she managed to gulp down another mouthful, surprised at the pleasant warm sensation that trickled down her throat and into her belly. "Why are you helping me?" she asked, a little hoarse from the fiery alcohol. The guard shrugged. "I've given my sworn word to serve the prince and be loyal to him, but that doesn't mean I have to approve of everything he does. Where I come from, a woman always has the power to say no. This isn't much, but it's all I can do." "Thank you," said Gabriella, and meant it. If the guard truly had the morals he claimed then this must be nearly as difficult for him as it was for her. Nearly, but not quite; after all it wasn't his body being sold. The guard took his flask back and made his way to the door, turning back for a moment before he went outside. "If you need anything, before his Majesty comes, call for me. I'm Octavius." He closed the door behind him and was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts and fears. The alcohol did seem to be taking the edge off things, though she was still filled with dread and the urge to run away, she did feel a little bit more relaxed, and her mind was less focused. She sat on the bed, uncertain what to do. How did one prepare for such a thing? She wished fervently that she had run away from home when she had the chance. Now it was too late, and a man was coming to take her virginity from her, without her consent. That he was the prince mattered very little to her. Royalty or not he was still the man who had purchased her and intended to rape her. Oh, she understood very well that she must pretend to like it, and not accuse the prince of such things, but rather pretend she was honored, and maybe even excited. The very idea caused her stomach to churn, and for a moment she thought she might be sick. That would serve the prince right, she thought bitterly, if he came to find her vomiting and too ill to even be considered for the activities he had planned. In a minute her stomach settled, and she stared at the doors, waiting for the prince to walk through. Cinder Girl Ch. 03 The doors opened and a new man came through. She heard him thank Octavius and then he shut the doors. Judging by his clothes, this must be the prince. Anyone other than royalty would not have the money to wear such finery. His shirt and coat were exquisitely tailored, his breeches a plush fabric that looked decadently soft. He was not wearing a crown, probably because he wasn't seeing anyone important - only her, the girl he had bought and paid for. He smiled at her, and Gabriella slid off the bed and into a low curtsy. Servants and slaves who didn't curtsy before the prince could be subject to disciplinary measures, and despite her hatred of him for doing this to her, she didn't want to add any charges of insolence to the ordeal she was already to endure. "Well, you are a pretty little thing," the prince said. "I see my man chose well." He put his hand under her chin, indicating that she should rise from her curtsy. "You must be the luckiest lady at the auction tonight," he said, smiling with confidence. Of course he was confident, she thought, no woman would ever tell him no! "Very lucky," she mumbled, her eyes fixed on the floor, lest he see the anger there. "You may look upon me, you know. You don't have to stare at the floor all night!" The prince laughed. "It will be a very long night for both of us if you're going to spend it like that." "Of course, your Majesty." Gabriella composed her face into an expression of calm and looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm so honored," she lied, "To have been chosen by your Majesty." She tried to unclench her jaw and not speak the words through gritted teeth. She supposed he might have been considered handsome by most. He was tall and well-built, his face was pleasing to the eye. To Gabriella though, he was hideous. The prince took a seat in the chair by the bed and began to remove his boots. "You should take your shoes off," he commanded, and Gabriella reached with trembling fingers to undo her laces. The shoes were the only part of her dress that hadn't come from the auction; rather Madame had found an older pair of Stazia's boots that fit and had Gabriella wear those. Her fingers were making a mess of things, the knots only growing worse. "I... I can't get them off." She winced as she told the prince. Would he be angry? He laughed and mumbled something about the nerves and weak hands of women, then took her shoe in hand and attempted to pull it over her foot without untying it. His efforts were in vain however, the shoe refused to budge. Looking annoyed, he started to pick at the knots, only to give up after a few moments and bellow toward the door, "Octavius!" As if he had been waiting right outside, the guard rushed in, his sword at the ready. "You can put that away," said the prince. "I only want your knife. The girl's boot laces need to be cut." Octavius nodded, sheathing his sword. He pulled a small dagger from his waistband and knelt on the ground next to Gabriella. "Your foot," he said, holding out his hand. Gabriella extended the boot, and with slow care, Octavius cleaved the laces from the boot, his hand carefully cradling her foot so that she wouldn't be accidentally cut. The boot slid right off, and in a minute he had done the other side as well. His eyes met hers for a brief moment after he pulled off the other shoe, and Gabriella saw - something - in his gaze, though she couldn't say what. "Will that be all, your Majesty?" Octavius asked as he rose. The prince made a dismissive gesture and nodded, and the guard left, eying Gabriella again, though she still found his expression unreadable. "Now." the prince turned to Gabriella. "I trust we'll have no more issues?" "No, your Majesty," she said meekly. "Good. Then come here, I'd like to see what the royal crown has paid for." She obeyed, her legs shaking as they carried her to in front of the prince. His eyes took her in, his seated gaze level with her chest. She wished he would hurry up and get it over with. The prince took hold of the hem of her skirt, and rose from his seated position, her skirts being drawn higher as he stood. He pulled the whole thing over her head, and Gabriella had to fight the urge to cover herself. Her breasts jutted up from the corset, displaying nearly all for the prince to see, and the scrap of cloth she'd been given to wear underneath left almost nothing to the imagination. She swallowed. She'd never been naked in front of a man before. The prince took hold of her shoulders and turned her away from him, his fingers moving swiftly to the laces of the corset. Gabriella felt a mixture of shame and relief as it fell from her frame; her breasts were entirely exposed, but at least she could breathe properly. She drew in a few big breaths, made ragged by the sudden act of the prince reaching around to cup her breasts in his hands. "Mmm," he said. Gabriella closed her eyes. Please, she thought, let it be over quickly. His fingers tugged at her nipples, and she felt surprised that it wasn't entirely unpleasant. She would never have thought of them as being receptive to pleasure. The prince moved his hands farther down her body, and with a tug, her undergarments, if they even deserved the name, were around her ankles. Her eyes flashed open as the Prince, losing no time, placed his hand between her legs, his fingers probing around. She was reminded of the woman earlier that evening who had done the same. Was the prince doing his own check for her virginity? He pulled her closer against him, one hand squeezing her breasts while the other quested between her legs. "Doesn't that feel good, sweetheart?" he asked, as he fumbled around. Oh, she thought, he thinks this is giving me pleasure. Remembering the words of the guard, and how it might go badly for her if the prince didn't think he was a master lover able to please all women, she cleared her throat and tried to find the right words. "Oh. Yes." she lied. "Please, your Majesty, more." She was sure that her tone was not convincing and he would grow angry, but to her surprise he bought it, and only chuckled. "So greedy already. Oh, we are going to have fun!" I doubt that, she thought. She could feel his hardness growing and pressing into her back. "Do you feel that sweetheart? That's the royal cock. You are such a lucky maid tonight." "Yes, your Majesty," she said, biting her lip to keep from begging him to stop. The strangest thing was happening: his probing around between her legs almost felt good. If he would but move a half inch to the left with his finger, he might actually give her some of the pleasure he thought he was. She restrained herself from angling her body differently to try and brush his fingers. She might have to verbally go along with his game, but she would keep control over her body! "I can feel how wet you're getting," said the prince, and she realized it was true, her nether regions were quite slick with liquid. "That tells me how badly you want the royal cock." She fought back a shudder of disgust. Somehow her body was responding to his touches, but she still found him repulsive. He pressed his hardness against her further, grinding it into the small of her back. "Tell me how much you want it," he ordered, still grinding. Gabriella looked up at the ceiling, wishing she were anywhere else right now. "So much, your Majesty," she said, her voice breaking, but he must have interpreted it as excitement. He continued rubbing along her slit and again she thought that if he just moved slightly, if he just touched her a little differently, it would feel good... No, she wouldn't think about that. She was enduring it, and no more. The Prince stepped back and began undressing. Despite herself, Gabriella could not help but sneak a glance backward over her shoulder. She'd never seen a naked man before. The prince was a firm, able-bodied specimen of man, and if his personality left much to be desired, his body was everything it should be - well muscled and defined, with just the right amount of hair. She took it all in impassively; she still hated him. "Do you like what you see?" asked the prince, his hands on his hips as he stood proud, displaying his body for her. "Oh, yes, your Majesty," she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "You are very handsome." At least that much was truth, but beauty of physical features and beauty within were entirely different things. Octavius randomly popped into her mind, and she pictured his face and body - plain, on the leaner side rather than the strapping build of the prince, but his eyes were kind, and his actions bespoke of more inner goodness than the prince would ever dream of. The prince placed his hands on her waist and guided her toward the bed. This is it, she thought. She took a deep breath as he bent her over the bed, holding her buttocks in his hands as he rubbed himself against her. "Are you ready for the royal cock?" he asked. She couldn't bring herself to speak, so she only nodded. Please don't let it hurt too much, she thought. She felt his hardness pressing against her folds, slipping in... "No!" she cried, unable to keep her objections inside any longer. "Please, no!" "Shh," said the prince, and shoved inside her. For a moment there was nothing but blinding, white-hot pain, and tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, rolling out and splashing against the coverlet of the bed. The prince was already pulling back and preparing to ram into her again, and Gabriella lowered her head, biting into the coverlet to muffle her cries. It was too late now, the prince had taken her virginity, and there would be no stopping him now. Her hands balled into fists in the bed-cover, another tear leaking out her eye. He shoved back inside her, then pulled out, then in again. "Doesn't that feel good now?" asked the prince. Gabriella wanted to scream and shove him off, but she valued her life more than she valued this. "Y-Yes, your Majesty." She gritted her teeth. "It feels so good." She remembered Octavius' words, and moaned. Although it was more an expression of her pain than her pleasure, prince seemed to interpret it otherwise. "Yes, you like that royal cock, don't you?" He thrust into her with every word. "Oh yes," she said. Now that the initial shock was over it wasn't so bad. The pain had mostly subsided, and she realized the fullness inside her felt kind of good. In another circumstance, with another person, this could possibly be pleasurable. She thought of his fingers working into her folds, and was surprised to find herself aroused by the idea - so long as it was another man's fingers, and not the prince's. She threw out another moan for good measure, though as focused on the full feeling inside her, it was almost a genuine moan of pleasure. "Yes," grunted the prince, and then he shoved her hips farther away. "Ride it," he said. "Ride the royal cock." Confused, Gabriella did nothing. The prince grabbed her hips and jerked her body back and forth so that she slid along his shaft. "Ride me," he said, and the she understood. Slowly and reluctantly she began to move her hips, the prince making grunts and squeezing her buttocks as she did. She found that in this position, she had a little more control, and with a little more control, she was able to maneuver things to make it more pleasurable for her. She didn't want to find pleasure in this, but her body kept shifting till his shaft was hitting all the right spots, and then she felt her pleasure building and building, her breathing coming sharp and fast, all her mind focused on maintaining the rhythm and then - The prince gasped and gripped her hips, pulling her buttocks tight against him as he grunted and she felt his member twitch inside her. He held her too tight to keep moving, and whatever pleasure she was building towards was lost. "The royal cock likes you too, sweetheart," said the prince, and she pulled a face at his habit of referring to his member in the third person, glad he could not see her face in this position. He slapped her buttocks and pulled out, leaving a hot trail of liquid down her thigh. "Get yourself cleaned up," he said, and then he was pulling his clothes on and out the door. Gabriella slowly rose off the bed, noting the rosy tint of blood in the fluids on her thigh. She could hear voices coming from the other side of the door. "I like her," the prince said, "But I wasn't able to make her come. Bring her to the palace, I could use a good challenge! I like a girl who lets me hone my skills. I'll have her again and again until we're both satisfied. Pay whatever her master wishes." "Yes, your Majesty," said Octavius, and then there were footsteps, presumably the prince making his departure. Gabriella was frozen with shock and horror. Bad enough that she'd been forced through this, but to endure it again and again? To become a sex slave? She'd rather die. In fact... She picked up the nearest vase and flung it at the window, shattering the glass. The sound would raise a commotion, so she had little time. Heedless of her nudity, she hefted herself up into the window frame, preparing to jump out. If she was very lucky, she would die on impact. If she was only moderately lucky, she'd break her legs and be sent to work in the poorhouse, mending and sewing. Either way was better than enduring that pig's love-making. She paused for one moment to speak to the sky. "Papa," she whispered, "I'm coming." Her legs leapt, she pushed herself forward, ready for the fall and the merciful death that would follow. It never came. Strong hands clutched at her waist, pulling her back from the ledge. "What are you doing, you crazy loon?" bellowed a voice in her ear. Octavius. "Let me go!" she struggled, her limbs flailing as she fought to get away. "I'd rather die, let me go!" Octavius wrestled her to the floor, pinning her there as she squirmed. After a few minutes, her struggles gave way to exhausted sobbing and she lay still on the floor, only her heaving chest moving. "You should have let me die," she cried into the carpet. "You're too young to die," said Octavius. "I'm too young to be resigned to a life of slavery too." He sighed. "Alright, alright, I'll help you. I don't know why I'm doing this, we'll both probably end up killed, but I'll help you escape?" "Really?" Gabriella perked up. "Won't you get caught?" "I would if I was going to hang around afterward, but I'm not. I've had issues with the prince for a long time. I'm coming too." She was surprised, but only nodded. As long as she could escape, that was all that mattered. With that settled, she became aware of her nakedness. "Um," she said, extending a hand behind her to cover her buttocks, "Would you be so good as to hand me my dress?" "Can't do that," said Octavius, and her heart thudded. He meant to leave her naked? Was he going to have his way with her too, as payment for the escape? "That's far too obvious," he continued. "They'd spot you as soon as you left the room and bring you back here. Doubtless the prince has already left orders with his other men to bring you to the palace." She breathed a sigh of relief. "Wait here, I'll find something for you to wear." As if I'm likely to bolt off naked, she thought. If the white dress was an attention-grabber, a naked woman was worse. Octavius left the room, closing the door behind him, and Gabriella rose, covering herself with the coverlet from the bed. It occurred to her that this might be an elaborate ruse on his part, meant to stop her from her suicidal attempts while he fetched help to restrain her and follow the prince's orders. She would have to take that chance though, as the alternative was to kill herself now or resign herself to her fate as the prince's concubine. Within five minutes Octavius had returned, a nondescript maids' uniform of black with a matching white apron in his hand. "Put this on," he shoved it at her, carefully averting his eyes, and then went out the door again to give her privacy to change. She leapt up from the bed, hurriedly pulling the stiff, starchy fabric over her head. To her dismay, he'd neglected to bring any underthings; but then she supposed he'd had enough trouble getting hold of this outfit. No doubt some poor maid would get an earful tomorrow over losing one of her uniforms. Reluctantly, she pulled the white, filmy scrap of fabric that Madame had given her back over legs. It was still better than nothing. With the apron tied over her, she looked every bit the part of maid. Gabriella slowly opened the door, making sure Octavius was alone. "Are you ready?" he whispered. She nodded. "Let's go," he said, and took her hand, pulling her forward. "Once we get to the main floor, we'll head right for the front door. Do you remember the way?" "Yes," she said, grateful that she had been paying attention every step of the way while plotting an escape. Now it was paying off. "Good. Then you lead me, and I'll play the part of lecherous guard while you act like a flirtatious chambermaid, and no one will put two and two together, they'll just think I'm off to give you a roll in the hay."Gabriella couldn't help but wonder what a 'roll in the hay' would be like with Octavius, instead of the prince. "Alright," she agreed. They made their way down the steps to the main floor, and she took the lead, hoping her memory was correct. They passed by other groups of people but drew no special attention, save from another group of guards, who made a show of leering and winking at Octavius as they walked by. "Out for a bit of stroll, Octavius?" asked one, with a smile. "Just going to have this gel give me a private tour of the grounds," he replied with a wink of his own. "Cor, she could tour my privates any day!" joked another, and Gabriella felt her face go hot but kept on walking. No attempt was made to stop them, and they reached the main doors and were outside on the grounds in no time at all. "Now what?" she hissed at him. They had to get away, to put as much distance between them and this house as possible, but in which direction? "South. I've family down that way." he took her arm and steered her in the correct direction. "Walk normally, act like we're just two young lovers out on a walk," he ordered. Gabriella, nodded, trying to calm her nerves. She linked her arm through his and pasted a smile she hoped was convincing on her face. "South it is." She had no preference, in any case, other than far and somewhere she could be free from her horrid stepmother. No one stopped them or even appeared to look twice, though there were a few other people out and about. They maintained their leisurely pace until they reached the edge of the grounds, near the forest, and then Octavius sped up the pace. "We'll have to live rough for a while, are you prepared for that?" Gabriella nodded. Anything was better than what awaited her back there. A few nights on the forest floor were infinitely preferable. "Come on then," he said. "Let's go." ** *** Two weeks later ** *** Gabriella had long since bartered away the maids outfit for something much more practical. The peasant's skirt she wore would have offended her step-family on sight, but she adored it. It was the first real piece of clothing she'd had in years that was actually her own. Her top was quite modest as well, but the worn fabric was soft against her skin and not at all ragged. She had yet to manage to procure proper undergarments, though. The slight bit of fabric had been abandoned leagues behind her, and now she was as bare as the day she was born under her skirt. She found it rather freeing, and exciting, although she was always very, very careful whenever she had to step too high or walk up stairs. Octavius had been wonderful, nothing but patient and kind. He'd gone out of his way to take care of her, always making sure there was something in the way of food and spending his own money to purchase bedrolls for the pair of them. They were nearly to the village where his family lived now, and talk had turned to what might happen when they arrived. Cinder Girl Ch. 03 "My parents are both in service," he said, "Mum's a housekeeper and Dad's stable manager. I wager they could get us into a house. I could have been a footman when I was younger, but being in the King's Guard sounded so much more exciting. Had I known I was mostly going to be shuttling the prince's mistresses back and forth I'd have been content polishing silver." "I know a lot about cleaning," ventured Gabriella, "But I'm afraid I'm quite unfit for kitchen work. Do you think they could find me a maid's position?" "I wouldn't doubt it," said Octavius. "If not in their own house, then they'll know someone who needs one. Are you sure that's what you want?" "It's really all I know," she replied truthfully. Though at one time she might have been a grand lady, had her father lived, those days were long gone, and at any rate she had no desire to draw particular attention to herself, where it might come to the attention of the prince. They were sitting near their fire, the last one in the woods, he'd promised her, before they reached his village and the hospitality of his parents. Gabriella didn't quite know how to put into words the rest of her thoughts. She didn't want to do anything else, because it might take her away from him. In the time they'd spent together, they'd grown incredibly close. With little else to do but talk as they made their way south, they soon learned all about each other. Now, in the firelight, his face close to hers, she could only think about him, and that she never wished to be parted from him. "I'm glad," he said. "I'm very glad that you'll be close. So I can check on you and make sure the prince hasn't hunted you down." "Is that all?" she asked, disappointed. "Well. Also because I've grown rather fond of you over the last couple of weeks," he said. "I've grown... rather fond of you as well." Her eyes met his, and in the blink of a moment, their lips met and he was kissing her, deeply, passionately, and it was everything it should be, and everything that had been lacking from her encounter with the prince. His hands were upon her breasts, squeezing and feeling them through the cloth, and then under it as he slipped his hands through the gap at her chest, his fingers trailing over nipples, long-ago left un-corseted and free, and eliciting a deep, abiding ache that seemed to start in her breasts and finish in her most private area. His hands were tugging at her top, then, lifting it over her head and exposing her bare chest, but she didn't care. His lips moved to cover her breasts, and she threw back her head in pleasure. His hot tongue explored her, savoring her, and she clutched at the back of his head, drawing him closer. "Gabby..." he whispered, and her knees turned to jelly. He lifted the hem of her skirt, his fingers questing until they found what they sought between her legs. She was reminded of the prince's futile efforts to arouse her. Octavius was having an entirely different effect on her; instead of closing her eyes and praying for it to end, she leaned into him, angling her pelvis toward him so that he was able to slip his finger inside her, and she gasped in wonder at the lust coursing through her. He was lowering her to the ground now, murmuring into her ear, whispering how much he wanted her, how beautiful she was. She wished that her first time could have been like this. "Don't you care?" she asked him, her voice quavering. "Care? About you? Of course," reassured Octavius. "Gabby, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't know if I'm worthy, but I'm going to try." "No," she said, her face coloring. "I mean, don't you care that I'm not - pure -anymore? After the prince?" Gabriella's face hung in shame. Was she stupid to remind him of her besmirching? Should she have let him go on and pretended it didn't matter. "You have a pure heart, dear one, and that is all I care about." Octavius kissed her deeply, and she melted into his embrace. Somehow with him she wasn't scared. The ordeal with the prince had been traumatic, yes, but this was not the prince, and she was determined to go on with her life and enjoy it. She would not let the prince ruin her forever. Octavius hovered over her, his trousers removed. He gave her a searching look, waiting for her permission. His erection rubbed against her inner thigh, begging for entry. She knew with him she could say no, even at this last moment, and he would stop. She didn't want him to stop. "Yes," she said, and she meant yes to him, and to living her life, yes to rescuing herself from the experience that still haunted her mind, yes to putting it behind her and not being defeated by it. "Yes," she said again, and then he was driving his member home. She cried out as he entered her, her legs wrapping around him and drawing him deeper, as his lips found hers again and they kissed passionately. He began to move in and out of her, and this was everything that had been missing from her encounter with the prince. Her body responded beautifully, and she felt the pleasure building and building until finally it washed over her like a breaking wave and she grabbed his shoulder and bit down as she cried out. Her fingers dug into his back, her body curled up and into him, and groaned his own pleasure as he released inside of her. He held her for a long time afterward, and she felt like a new woman, the taint of the prince washed away, and the distance between her and her step-family finally severing the ties. She was no longer their little cinder girl, nor was she some royal buffoon's plaything, to be bought and sold at will. She was free to live her life and to love whom she chose, and if she never had much money and had to work for a living, well at least she was free. She might have lived in the lap of luxury had she allowed herself to be taken to the palace by the prince, but it couldn't compare to being here in the woods with Octavius, who loved her. Well, he hadn't said as much, but she knew, and she knew that she loved him too. Whatever tomorrow might hold, as they made new beginnings in a new town, they would face it together, and be all the stronger for it. Gabriella looked at the man slumbering beside her and felt a sense of peace. If she'd never been brought before the prince, she might still be cleaning the floors in Madame's home, and just look at her now! She grinned and cuddled into his body, his arm draping over protectively, and she drifted off to sleep feeling safe and content.