Old 12-28-2012, 06:15 PM   #1
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Cinderella (HotCider & lonelycollegegirl)


Once upon a time, there lived a young girl left in the care of her wicked step-mother. Her mother had died of sickness in a brothel and her dying wish had been to spare her daughter the life of a whore. The step-mother, Olga, regretfully took the disgrace in for to her envy, the girl grew into a lovely young woman—more beautiful than her two daughters: the tall and lanky Frieda and the plump and smelly, Brunhilde. With hair of spun gold and eyes of the clearest skies, the young, step-daughter would have been an enticing prize if Olga didn’t mistreat her.

The young daughter was a servant in Olga’s mansion. They hired no other maids to assist her in the rigorous chores, and even so, to their disgust, the flaxen-haired beauty dubbed Cinderella completed every single one. She was malnourished and filthy—denied a proper meal and a bath.

In the approaching winter, Olga for the first time sent Cinderella into town to fetch lamp oil. Upon returning, she is attacked by a pauper and near raped until she is saved by a mysterious, inebriated gentleman. Having a keen eye for beauty, he saw through her filth and invited her to his private suite at the Inn. There, she was able to bathe with the finest oils and soaps and for once eat a filling meal. Feeling that she may have overstayed her welcome or owed the man a favor, Cinderella sought to sneak away, having no gold to offer in thank you. Her savior stopped her and pleaded for her to stay the night with him. What was meant to be a mere generous offer became a fiery and erotic night, Cinderella would never forget.

Cinderella awoke the next morning to find the man nowhere to be found. What felt like a dream soon dramatically became a nightmare for she had forgotten all about her wicked step-mother. She returned to the mansion no longer the virgin she had been before and was punished. Never would she be allowed to step foot outside again.

Months dragged on and the love-sick Cinderella couldn’t stop thinking about that night with the gentleman. Did it really happen? Was it all a dream? Her frustrated passions said otherwise. That night, her step-mother and sisters returned from a night on the town in clamorous excitement. They had in their hands invitations to the prince’s birthday ball. Cinderella happened to steal a peek at one of the scrolls and recognized the man sketched on the invitation to be the same man who had saved her that night. Of course, the man hadn’t been as polished as the prince, but she couldn’t mistake his face for another nor the mark he had left on her salacity. Devastated, Cinderella wept and prayed for a chance to see her savior again. Her prayers were then answered by a not-so fairy godmother.

Suspicious and impish, the creature gave to her a potion that would not only restore her to full health but enhance her beauty. A drop was all she would need for the potion was potent, and it would expire at midnight. On the night of the ball after her step family left, Cinderella took the potion and was transformed into an enchanting lady. She applied the drops to some mice and a pumpkin she found in the garden and they morphed into beautiful horses leading an extravagant carriage.

Cinderella arrived at the ball and the potion’s potency became known. Lords, counts, and officers were drawn to her like horny bulls, and in due time the prince took notice of her. Their reunion was a happy and angry one for Cinderella. The prince hadn’t recognized her at first until she explained how they had met. After a dance, the prince invited her to his chambers with every intention to lay with her again. Still not convinced that her beauty was good enough for the prince, Cinderella downed the rest of the imp’s potion and her final transformation was more than the prince could bear. They had indulged in each other for hours on end until midnight rang on frightening bells. In her hurry, Cinderella gathered her clothes—all but one heel—and fled the castle. She returned to her home in rags, the magic having long, worn off and again disheartened. She would never see him again.

The next day, the prince was sexually starving and determined to find the girl whose name he never learned. Having only her shoe, he sought out every woman in the kingdom, searching desperately for the woman that could fit the magic and stubborn shoe. When it came time that the prince would visit Olga’s mansion, her step-mother locked poor Cinderella deep in the cellar. Unable to hear her cries and screams, the prince near left until he discovered a strand of blonde hair on Brunhilde’s gown. No one in the household had such hair from what he could see, and so enraged he demanded the wicked step family to show him the girl they were hiding. Reluctantly, they obeyed him and freed Cinderella. Reunited with his lover, he stole her away to his castle, where they lived happily ever after.


All right; so I’ve always been big on taking a fairy tale and making it dark and dirty. This being one I wanted to try out since I’ve done a few others in my past. I look forward to reenacting the story line written above with a talented, literate, and gifted writer. I hope that the writer will be able to offer some character personality and a bit of her own imagination to make the story more worth it. The character needs to have a life of her own please; don’t make her an empty shell.

If you’ve read my sexual profile down there in my signature, you’ll notice that I’m more about 60% quality and story line and 40% quality and sex. I really dislike when a story line is completely abandoned for raw sex. I enjoy getting 100% fulfillment in my games. But any who…

This is meant to be a 1 on 1. Some aspects that can be expected in this game are:

xFairy Tale

As I said, this is meant to be a fun game and not so serious. If you’re interested, PM me a sample of your writing. If you’re involved in other games on this site, you can just link me to a game where you feel shows best how you write. If I give you the okay, then the profile-making can happen. I’m not going to tell you to go ahead and make a profile because if I don’t think we’re compatible, I wouldn’t want you to waste your time.

To give a specific time theme: We’re going 1700s. This won’t be medieval.

The Beginning

The game will begin with Cinderella being sent to fetch kerosene from the town. It’s cold, she’s not exactly dressed for the weather, and yeah, it sucks. Just before she could purchase the oil, a pauper tries to steal the coppers she has on her, but soon forsakes the coppers for her chastity.

(Final Note: Remember, if you're interested in this game, do not post in this thread. This thread is going to be where the game will start. Thank you.)

Last edited by HotCider : 01-05-2013 at 12:06 AM.
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Old 12-28-2012, 11:21 PM   #2
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True Identity: Prince Tiberius James Robert Beyer III
Alias: The Mysterious Gentleman
Age: 27
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 171 lbs.
Written Appearance: When the prince isn’t sneaking around Siren Song as a common man, he looks exactly the way one would expect a prince to look. His hair is of maple, well-trimmed and glistening with light oil. His sideburns are sharp. He’s fair-skinned and his eyes smile with mischief. He is athletically built for his father often forces him into fencing classes and arts from the Oriental Coast. The prince is quite a catch, but strangely no woman has ever caught his fancy.
Visual Appearance: Image
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Color: Grey
Personality: Although the prince looks the way he should, he doesn’t act at all the way most would stereotype how a prince would act. There are times where he neglects to shave and he’ll walk around in common clothes that his father would often have burned. The prince is known to spite his father on a regular basis, especially when a potential wife is being forced upon him. He’ll slurp his soup, belch, and bite his nails at the table to purposefully disgust the spoiled and pampered, wish-to-be queens. At night, when the prince would supposedly retire to bed, he sneaks out of the castle, donning his common clothes to blend in with the public. He fancies the tavern called The Powder Keg for the countless fights and boisterous drinking. It is the common life that makes him feel normal and one with his people. Little does he know, love is just around the corner.
Weapons: Rapier and flintlock
Other: Be warned! This prince is slick.
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Old 01-02-2013, 10:27 PM   #3
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lonelycollegegirl is offline
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Location: Lame old Midwest.
Posts: 443
True Identity: Cinderella
Alias: The Mysterious Young Woman
Age: 24
Height: 5’6”
Weight: 92 lbs (135 when brought to her full health)
Written Appearance: Being locked away hasn't done much for Cinderella's beauty. Once a vibrant golden haired beauty, years of darkness, malnourishment and solitude Cinderella now stands pale and extremely thin, and with a sunken face her exquisite bone structure is much too visible. Only able to bathe on the rare occasion she finished her chores, Cinderella was often covered in soot, ash, and any other type of dirt she'd been exposed to in her 'home'. Despite the above, Cinderella's natural beauty still shines through when she lets a smile through and her pale blue eyes light up and you can see the hint of the girl she used to be.
Visual Appearance: Image
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Pale Blue
Personality: Despite the horrible cards she's been dealt, Cinderella still has one of the purest hearts in the land. She has not been jaded by her wicked step-mother and she still believes that there is good in the world she's yet to discover. Call it naivety, but it's her heart that keeps her so innocent. She's as scared as she is curious of the world outside of her dungeon and longs for the day she's able to see the beauty it has to offer. Cinderella's rarely seen anyone save her step-mother and sisters and the occassional suitors who would come for them, but has not had any contact with the opposite sex ever in her life. In spite of the cruelty she's been shown, Cinderella still shows the utmost kindness to all creatures she encounters, vowing to herself never to let those three women ruin her innocence and her kindness.

Last edited by lonelycollegegirl : 01-02-2013 at 10:34 PM.
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Old 01-05-2013, 02:58 PM   #4
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The Mysterious Gentleman

“Madame Belyakov,” Monsieur Dupont greeted sweetly. He gently took the slender and wrinkled hand of the widow in his cold, leathery one and kissed her fingers where her old wedding ring still resided. The old thing didn’t mean much to her now that Gaspadin Belyakov was dead. He had left her a fortune, he did and two beautiful daughters who had suitors coming weekly lured to the Belyakov manor by rumors of the Belyakov princesses. Monsieur Dupont had been one of those men, seeking to wed his son to an extravagant lady.

“You are as beautiful as the sunrise that I was fortunate to have the pleasure of seeing this morning. I have been growing so old that I am grateful for every morning I get to see it; and how are you this morning my dear?”

Olga rested a blue glove against her glowing left cheek as the gentleman’s flattery tickled her. She was wearing a dark-blue gown and her silver hair was piled and wrapped on top of her head and bound with clips adorned with pearls. She wore pearls about her throat that lay upon a flat expanse of chest more than breast. Her waist was clenched so tight within her gown’s inner corset that it was the width of a beam, if only to make her hips look bigger.

“Monsieur Dupont, you are quite the charmer and aged like a handsome wine,” Olga returned.

Monsieur Dupont laughed and released her hand to reach behind him to slap the back of his son. The young man jumped in startle and he felt his father urging him to step forward as he pitifully rubbed at his back as though it may have bruised.

“This is my son, Mathieu. He is the heir of the Dupont Exchange. We are a company down on the coast, which deals in trade. We have traded with Greece, Italy, Spain, and Africa and we act as a dock where other merchant ships can profit or lease one of our ships. Mathieu, here, manages that part of the business. His management skills are unmatched.”

Olga eyed the cleanly, young man. His hair was dark and curly and his jaw so absent of hair that she almost questioned his age. Arching a silver brow, the widow asked curiously, “Does he sail?”

Mathieu tensed a little and choked on a gasp of dread. He was terrified of water and wouldn’t be caught dead on that floating casket. He had heard stories of sea monsters and how great storms in the form of giants swallowed ships and their sailors whole. Casting his eyes aimlessly to the side, he stuck to his father’s plan: say nothing, and he would do all the talking.

“Yes, he owns his own ship Le dragon de mer is what it’s called,” Monsieur Dupont replied.

Mathieu choked again and removing a handkerchief from his sleeve, he turned from his father and the widow, uttering on a rasp over his shoulder, “Pardon.”

Like hell he owned that ship. His father’s lies were making his skin crawl.

Olga smiled brightly, clearly impressed with the young suitor. “Bravo Mathieu. My daughters would love to hear your tales of the sea.”

Mathieu conjured a fake smile of pride that he flashed over his shoulder before he returned his face to his handkerchief. Yes, he would share his nightmares. Living so close to the water often put him on a ship in his dreams. He would have many to share.

What does it matter Mathieu? We are only here for the lovely, young women, his conscience told him and brought to his lips a smile of content. He may not have been a sailor or a man of labor, but he was handsome and rich. What woman wouldn’t want a Dupont?

Having regained his composure, he faced the widow and his father still smiling arrogantly as his thoughts brought him comfort.

“And where are these fine, young women?” Mathieu queried.

Olga called over her shoulder, “Freida! Brunhilde! There is a handsome gentleman here to see you.”

Well, we can’t keep him waiting now can we?

The voice came from the staircase and the Dupont’s cast their eyes to the portly maiden at the top of the stairs. She was wearing a magenta gown with an enclosure of polyester about her shoulders. Her auburn hair was rolled into a bun atop her head that appeared much smaller in comparison to her body. Mathieu paled and his mouth fell agape in horror, while Brunhilde smiled and slowly descended the steps with a seductive sway of her hips.

He’s in awe, she thought in self-praise. He must not have ever seen this much of a woman before.

Behind her stalked Freida, thin and face caked in so much makeup that Mathieu thought he was staring at a clown than a woman. In fact, the whole mansion seemed like a circus: the fat lady and the fool; what was he doing here? As the daughters descended the steps, Monsieur Dupont pinched his spectacles and squinted his eyes.

“They are marvelous!” he said on a gasp.

Mathieu’s head snapped in his father’s direction so harshly that he could have broke his own neck. The half-blind fool! This man had brought him into this world to torment him. He would have traded all of his gold to crawl back into his mother’s womb if only to spare him from this moment.

Brunhilde prowled over to the young suitor with sashaying or jiggling—he couldn’t tell!—hips and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She thrust out her hand and Mathieu stared at the meaty appendage. Taking it lightly, he was stunned to see that her hand had been much larger than his. It was thicker than a bear’s paw!

“This is Brunhilde. She is my youngest daughter and has grown to a woman of fashion with the voice of an angel,” Olga introduced.

Just as Mathieu was kneeling to kiss her paw, Brunhilde threw back her other hand, tossed back her head, and opened her mouth as her throat swelled like a tire and a shrill note tore into the quiet that had settled. The suitor’s ears rang and he flinched when one of the glass shades on the chandelier above suddenly popped. Quickly pecking her hand, Mathieu straightened and dug a finger into one of his ears.

“Her lungs are quite powerful,” he complimented. Perhaps if we strapped her to one of our ships, she would make for a lethal figurehead against pirates.

Brunhilde turned and found her way over to a small lounge where she spilled across the couch. She laid upon her side and crossed her arms over a pillow as she continued to ogle the young Dupont. Freida stepped forward next and held out her slender limb. Mathieu took her limb delicately, fearing that even with his strength he could accidently wrench it free from her socket.

“My oldest daughter Freida. She is a master of beauty and art. She did her makeup herself,” Olga said.

Mathieu eyed the young woman. Her brown hair hung loose and plain from her scalp and the green gown hung in places where she was absent of curves. It was too big for such a narrow woman.

She would make a nice mast, Mathieu thought before he kissed her hand.

Frieda joined her sister in the lounge and sat in the seat next to the sofa.

“Tall and beautiful like Venus,” Monsieur Dupont said. “She has her mother’s beauty.”

Mathieu scowled at his father. This was getting too out of hand. Olga waved her hand over to the lounge.

“Join us please gentlemen,” she offered.

Mathieu made no attempt to follow Madame Belyakov until Monsieur Dupont snagged his arm and dragged him toward the circle of death.

“Unhand me you old coot!” Mathieu whispered harshly. His father’s grip was strong for an old man.

“When do you talk to your father in such a way?” Monsieur Dupont whispered back.

“Since he can’t tell a whale from a woman! The other might as well be a jester!”

“Are you queer boy? They are both gorgeous.”

“Your eyes have expired father. You plan to wed me to a lamppost and a hippo.”

“Say no more. Sit down and be quiet.”

When Mathieu neared the chair across from Freida but unfortunately next to Brunhilde, he paused before Brunhilde and she puckered her lips in a pout before shrugging her shoulder and her sleeve slid down her arm, loosening the corset about her right breast until her flesh oozed like lard across the couch pillow. Mathieu shuddered in disgust and whirled in the direction of the door, holding his arm against his lips. His stomach near buckled and forced out his guts.

“I can’t do this,” Mathieu confessed.

“Mathieu!” Monsieur Dupont scolded.

“Yell all you like father but I refuse to be married to those monsters!”

Olga and her daughters gasped in shock.

Embarrassed, Monsieur Dupont chased after his fleeing son. “Please excuse him, Madame Belyakov. I-I will try to talk some sense into him.”

Mathieu wrenched open the door and stormed outside with his father scurrying and growling behind him. Olga furiously strode across the room and slammed the door behind them. Locking it, she faced her daughters with eyes shining in her anger.

“You scared him off Hildy!” Frieda growled. “You are too forward.”

Brunhilde tugged her sleeve back up and snorted. “It’s not my fault he doesn’t know how to handle me. And this dress is too small!” Now that the suitor was gone, Brunhilde flexed and her gown’s inner-corset snapped to free her belly. The sides of her gown immediately ripped and she moaned like a cow in relief, “Gracious.”

Frieda tugged at the loose folds in her gown and whined, “And this gown isn’t tight enough! I must have looked like Cinderella to him, and I couldn’t see my face in the dark. The lamps need more oil!”

Olga approached her daughters and cooed, “We will find you a new gown Brunhilde, and we’ll take your dress to a tailor Freida. Do not worry my dears, you are both beautiful, and if I had seen these problems sooner, then the Duponts may have seen your true beauty. I will have Cinderella fetch us some lamp oil at once.

“Aaaw~” Brunhilde moaned, “But I’m hungry. Why can’t she cook dinner first?”

“She will need to be able to see in the kitchen to cook.”

“Fine; make sure she goes in haste before I starve!”

“Cinderella!” her step-mother hailed.
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Old 01-06-2013, 07:53 PM   #5
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It was quite a beautiful day; the sun was shining bright, birds we were singing, and the flowers in the garden were dancing with the slight breeze that made the air just right.

At least that's what Cinderella imagined as she stared blankly at the wall of her bedroom.It'd be more appropriate to call it a dungeon if anything, located in the basement of the mansion her step-mother and sisters called home. It was actually quite cold; winter had come early, and fast, and Cinderella sat hugging herself as her mind wandered of the beauty outside of prison.

Cinderella sighed heavily before rising from her bed, which was made of a very thin blanket on a concrete floor and a pillow she'd stole from the trash when the three women were away. As she stood she straightened her blue dress as best she could for she hadn't been able to wash it in over a week. She hadn't had time to wash her own dress or even run a bath for that matter since she'd been preparing the house for a suitor to arrive this morning. She'd went over every inch of the house at least four times yesterday evening before preparing the girls dinner. She'd been up at the crack of dawn to run her sister's baths and have their lunch ready and cleaned up by time the young gentleman arrived today. Cinderella hoped, if she was lucky she'd be able to catch a glimpse of the man while he was here, if she'd get the chance to meet the suitor and perhaps he'd choose her over her step-sisters.

Not to her surprise, Cinderella was ordered to her room the moment they could see their guests making their way up the path. This was no different than any other time a gentleman was sent to court her sisters, but it never stopped Cinderella from dreaming.

All to quickly Cinderella heard her step-mother calling and Cinderella began to panic. Had she been daydreaming this long? The wash was not close to being finished and she hadn't even begun preparing dinner. She hurried up the stairs, ready to be berated for being behind schedule and was not surprised to find the three of them with grimaced looks upon their faces.

"Yes Step-Mother? I know I'm a little-" Cinderella began to explain but was cut off by Olga's silencing hand.

"Hush Cinderella. You need not speak. We need you to fetch more oil for the lamps." Olga screeched. Cinderella could barely stand the sound of her voice anymore. Did she mean? I get to leave? Cinderella fought hard not to smile at her step-mother's orders.

"Yes," Freida added, in an equally shrilling voice, "The gentleman must have thought me as hideous as you Cinderella as I was unable to see my face in proper lighting without the oil."

It was just like Freida to throw an insult at Cinderella any way she could. Instinctively Cinderella tucked a loose piece of her blond hair away from her face and her eyes met the ground. I'm sure it wasn't the lighting that made you look hideous.

"Take these," Olga continued, handing Cinderella three silver coins, "follow the path into town and get as much oil as this will buy. Someone will know where to direct you. You're going to need to refill all of the lamps when you return. Fill the kitchen first so that you can get started on dinner immediately. Do you understand girl?"

"Yes Step-Mother," Cinderella replied dropping the coins into the pocket of her apron. So many things were running through her mind, she couldn't believe her step-mother was actually sending her into town. Cinderella had never seen the outside of the grounds where her home stood, and even then she was only allowed outside to hang the wash in the warm seasons.

"Well, go on now! Why are you just standing there," Brunhilde squawked. It was then for the first time Cinderella noticed her ripped dress. Guess you really can't put an elephant in a pretty dress.

"With haste girl!" She continued. "My appetite is already returning and I'd like not to starve this evening." As if one skipped meal you'd die. You're body would have plenty to feed off of itself.

Before Olga could change her mind Cinderella hurried to the door made her way outside. Though the sun was shining, the air was very chilled against her skin. Though her dress was rather heavy and reached her ankles, the sleeves just covered her shoulders and her arms were exposed to the brisk air. She knew the sun would be going down soon, so despite her desire not to return so quickly to her home, she knew she'd have to if she didn't want to freeze.

It was greater than anything she could have imagined. The world was beautiful, even with everything dead in the middle of winter. And the people, there were so many around, dressed in so many different ways. Granted most of them gave Cinderella awful looks when she passed, some of disgust, others pity, but she couldn't blame them nor did she mind. She politely smiled at everyone she passed and even muttered a "How do you do?" to ones that didn't seem too off put by her appearance.

There was one man in particular Cinderella passed that she felt would not be offended by her because he himself was as dirty, if not dirtier than she, with long tangled hair and ripped clothes. He had a tin he was shaking, asking for money. He must be one of these "beggars" she often hears her family speaking so poorly of over dinner. Cinderella was fascinated by the man as he continued shaking his tin in front of everyone who passed though none gave him any coins. He must've spotted Cinderella watching him, because he approached her and she smiled warmly at him.

"Good evening m' lady," the man said gesturing a tip of his hat. "Have any coins to spare dear?"

"I'm sorry sir, but I've spent my last coins on this oil here for my step-mother," she replied holding the tin of oil for him to see as proof. Cinderella wished she would have seen him before she'd spent all of the silver. She would have gladly given him a coin. Cinderella felt a chill down her spine, though she didn't feel the wind and thought it odd. But it reminded her that she must be on her way.

"I've got to be going sir. Good day," she smiled and continued walking. She'd made it about fifty yards, when she heard a strange noise coming behind her. She'd turned to see what was there, but the alley she was walking had no sun and was now dark and she couldn't see very far. [i]Of course the hag couldn't have given me a lantern or a candle. Nothing to make my life anything but difficult[i].

The noise was getting closer, and she finally recognized it was the beggar's loose change banging around in his tin. Why is he following me?"

Cinderella turned, and was surprised at how close the man was to her. She was almost touching him. Her eyes were level with his, and in them she saw something she hadn't ever seen before.

"I'm sorry sir, but I've told you I have no coins. I really must be going." As she turned to move away from him he grabbed her arm, startling her and causing her to drop the oil can. She shrieked in horror as she tried to catch it but it was useless; the oil was all over the ground. Tears filled Cinderella's eyes; she knew her step-mother would not be happy about this. That, however, was the least of her concerns.

"Oh don't cry over that oil deary, I'll make you forget about it very quickly," the beggar gave her a crimson smile as he pushed her back against the alley wall, hard. He inhaled deeply, pressing his nose next to her neck.

"No perfume m' lady? Not a problem .. you still smell so sweet." Cinderella raised a hand to push him away but he quickly pinned it to her side. Despite how weak the man was, Cinderella was even weaker.

"Sir, please. What do want?" She begged, keeping her head turned from his.

"I want to see what's underneath this dress of yours. You must have some magical corset to look so divine." Before she could question his statement the beggar had ripped open the front of her dress, exposing her chest and stomach. Of course she didn't have a corset, Olga would never allow it.

The beggar's eyes widened as he was surprised to find her bare beneath her dress. "What a good whore you are my dear. No corset, just a naturally beautiful body. We don't see that around these days m' lady, you are one of a kind." he said before lowering his mouth to her breast. Cinderella had never been touched by a man before and she didn't want this beggar to be the first. She tried again to shove him away but it was useless. Her resistance only seemed to fuel him further. Cinderella's eyes swelled with tears as she begged the man to stop.

He pulled his mouth away and released her arm for a moment. Cinderella opened her eyes to see the man fumbling with his pants. What is he going to do to me? Please God, stop this madness! She closed her eyes again and prayed silently for it all to end.

Cinderella didn't know anything about men or making love, except from what her sisters teased her about growing up, telling her "No man will ever want to touch you Cinderella, let alone make love to you!" They'd torture her for hours and Cinderella always dreamed of a man wanting nothing more than to touch her, and make love to her. Now, she regretted ever making that wish.

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Old 01-06-2013, 11:28 PM   #6
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The beggar unceremoniously dropped his pants to the dingy, cobbled street. His stood before her with his thin, hairy legs, and knees bulging like doorknobs. Amidst a rug of black hair was a small, pink peter, about as long as a ring finger that was erect and glistening with his desires. Snagging Cinderella’s forearms, he shoved her against a wooden fence and grinned, his lips parting to reveal rows of yellow, grey, and black teeth and gums red with -itis.

“Dun’ move now girl, lest it not be pleasant fo’ the both of us,” the beggar threatened on a croak.

As the beggar reached down to hike up her skirts, he saw a pair of legs standing close by in his peripherals. Startled, he snapped his head over his shoulder to see a man with his head eased back as he drained a bottle of port. He wasn’t dressed like a cop or anyone important. He was wearing a brown jacket with patches at the elbow and a creamy tunic underneath. A blue cravat was about his neck, beneath a light, three o’clock shadow. His hands wore fingerless, grey gloves and brown trousers rode down his long legs to a pair of leather shoes. Hmph; the stranger was nothing but a beggar.

“On your way!” the beggar growled. “I seen her first!”

The stranger lowered the bottle, his cheeks round with the sweet contents he slowly gulped down. Paying the beggar no mind, he tipped the bottle over and gave it a few shakes to make sure every drop had been savored and whirled around, staggering a little and appearing as though he was walking away. The beggar returned to Cinderella with a starving smile.

“Now where were we?”

The stranger turned back around and swinging the bottle like a hammer, he brought it down upon the beggar’s head with a crash. The beggar wobbled, stunned by the blow, and collapsed upon the street.

Regarding the bottleneck in his hand, the stranger muttered, “That’s some good grog.” Dropping the neck upon the beggar, the stranger removed his jacket and offered it to the right of Cinderella to where he had thought he saw her, or perhaps it was her twin. Nonetheless, he graced the fence with a friendly smile and said, “Are you all right? What’s a lady doing out at this time of night without escort? I mean not to be rude, but a woman with your beauty is like a lamb passing through a den of wolves.” He then added smoothly, “But do not worry for your shepherd is here.”

Holding his hand out to her, the stranger bent at the waist in a gentleman’s bow and said, “Come my dear, I will escort you wherever you wish to go. It is not safe to wander the night alone. Think of all the beggars with tiny willies eager to strip you of your gown. I tell you now he was wrong. Even under different circumstances, it still would not have been pleasant for you.”

The stranger smiled up at her, his face red and merry in his inebriation.
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Old 01-09-2013, 03:39 PM   #7
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"On your way!" the beggar growled. "I seen her first!"

For the first time Cinderella opened her eyes, hopeful that someone had come to save her. But her hope vanished as fast as it appeared when she saw the man turn his back to her. She willed him with her eyes to help her, but couldn't find her voice to call out to him. Please sir, I beg of you, help me!

She kept her eyes on this mysterious man, watching him turn the bottle over, ensuring he consumed every drop of it's contents. He appeared very inebriated, a state in which Cinderella had only observed a few times at the parties her step-mother held. None of course that Cinderella were invited to. She instead served the guests and did whatever she was told. She was thankful to have any contact with other people she could get. Cinderella let her mind drift to those memories, which sadly were some of the only good ones she had. She wanted to think of anything but what was about to happen to her.

The sound of shattering glass broke Cinderella of her trance and she shrieked as she saw the beggar tumble to the ground. With wide eyes and mouth agape she looked to the strange man who looked himself as if we was about to fall over. As he removed his jacket, Cinderella examined this mysterious man. He looked much different than the beggar who'd just attacked her, and though he didn't look like anyone of royalty, Cinderella couldn't help but think the man beautiful. His eyes, though hazy, were quite spectacular; she couldn't take her eyes off of them. His unshaven face was remarkably shaped, with a strong jaw line and crooked smile Cinderella couldn't help but be drawn to. She willingly took his jacket, though she had to reach a few feet to her right to take it from him, eager to cover her exposed upper body.

"Are you all right? What's a lady doing out at this time of night without an escort?" Hmph. Olga would rather have me dead than be escorted by a man. Cinderella began to explain, but the man continued talking.

"I mean not to be rude, but a woman with your beauty is like a lamb passing through a den of wolves. But do not worry for your shepherd is here." He must've consumed more of that grog than was in that bottle. Cinderella was unable to stop the pink from rising in her cheeks.

"Come my dear, I will escort you wherever you wish to go. It is not safe to wander the night alone. Think of all the beggars with tiny willies eager to strip you of your gown. I tell you now he was wrong. Even under different circumstances, it still would not have been pleasant for you." Different circumstances? I don't think anything could have been worse than this.

She took the man's hand, and as if that contact was all it took, the drawbridge broke and Cinderella's tears came flowing. She wrapped her arms around the man's neck and pulled him close to her holding on for her life that he had possibly just saved. Speaking for the first time to him, she thanked him again and again.

"Oh sir, thank you, thank you, thank you." She managed between small sobs. "I don't know what I would have done had you not appeared at that moment. Words cannot express my gratitude!" She continued praising the man for another moment, and upon realizing that she was hugging a complete stranger, she backed up quickly.

"I - I'm sorry, I just. I was overcome with emotion. I - I apologize for my forwardness sir," Cinderella apologized as she lowered her head. Her hair fell upon her face, all of it not hanging freely down her back thanks to the beggars roughness.

Last edited by lonelycollegegirl : 01-10-2013 at 09:43 PM.
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Old 01-11-2013, 10:14 PM   #8
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He felt the maiden’s delicate hand rest within his and just as he was straightening, she had thrown her arms about his neck as a sob left her lips. His face was smashed against her chest, lost in the valley that rested snuggly between her fleshy mounds. His rough face was like Velcro against her gentle skin, and in his drunkenness, she may have noticed his weight shifting to lazily lean against her.

Oh sir, thank you, thank you, thank you.

My pleasure, came his muffled voice. It was a murmur against her chest, its depth quivering through her bosom.

When Cinderella suddenly backed up, the man tipped forward before he threw his shoulders back, rocking back to right himself. The street spun before his eyes for a moment before it adjusted and he rested his hand upon his head, closed his eyes, and replied to her, “It-It is…appalling. Not even I would want that to happen to me. Men like that should not be welcomed here.”

Sighing deeply in exasperation, his hand lowered to his face as he sluggishly explained, “I apologize. If you didn’t notice, I believe that I had a little bit too much at The Powder Keg, but do not worry…”

Dropping his hand, he slipped his thumb in his pocket, turned his head to the left with his chin tilted up, and allowed his other arm to hang in his attempt to appear dignified. His brows were slightly furrowed and a stern frown was on his face as he claimed chivalrously, “No drink is ever too strong. I would fight off a bear for you.”

The man then lost his composure as a silly smile curled at his lips. He laughed at the image that appeared in his mind. Him; drunk off his ass and wrestling a bear with a bottle of gin in his hand. “I think the rum would be necessary for that achievement.”

“Where do you live girl?”
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