This is the conclusion of a four-part story. The earlier episodes can be found here:
Episode 5: Cinderella stoops to conquer
And then the second lash of that cane, a little lower than her first. Her eyes opened wide as the pain sunk in, and her mouth opened. She knew the little squeal she made would please him, and she fought against it. She didn’t want to make herself so obvious, but she couldn’t help it. The squeal came, unbidden except by the pain.
Then the third stroke, and her hips began to weave, rising to meet each new stroke, and falling back against the table. Time passed, and the flogging continued. She began to babble, punctuated by cries of pain when the cane landed. She didn’t know what she was saying; it seemed to be in some language she didn’t know.
And later she’d lost count of the strokes; she’d even lost all sense of time. She floated, free, on waves of something that was warm like blood, but paler in colour. Her cries, when the cane landed, were softer, were like murmurs of love.
After what might have been an hour or a day or a week, she felt the prince’s hands on her hips again, the cane still held in his right hand. She opened her thighs a little wider, and cooed again, a different kind of stroke, as he entered her, taking her deep. All was fluid, inside her body and all around. She moved with him, rapturously, as he took her. He moved slowly so she could feel and savour every moment, every movement.
Later, she lay on him as he lay on his back on the kitchen floor. He looked up at her and played with her hair. “Take me to bed?” she said.
“From now on, you’ll sleep here two nights every week. The servants will be forbidden to enter this room. You will start the fires, and you will cook the morning meal.”
“Because you wish it. You will be naked while you carry out your tasks. No one but I may enter.”
“Enter … the kitchen? Or … me?”
He smiled, and reached over to smack her bottom. While she yelped – her bottom really did hurt, now she had fucked and come and laughed herself into exhaustion – he said, “I meant the kitchen. But both. You’re mine. You can put on your robe – the satin robe, like a lady – when it’s time to open the doors. The servants can take it from there.”
“How often do I do this?”
“Two nights a week.”
“Will you be with me?”
“Often. But while you are doing this, you are the lowest person in my household, is that understood?”
“Yes, my prince.”
He smiled again, the smile of a man who thought he was clever. The princess frowned. “How did you know? How did you work this out? Why – “
He smacked her again. And again. She could feel him becoming hard. Soon he would roll her over, onto her back, onto the gritty kitchen floor. “It’s as I said. Why doesn’t matter.”
(It’s not often I get to tell a complete story in just five episodes, one of them wordless, so it’s worth celebrating.)