A Pantomime




Once upon a time in a land on the outer reaches of Europe dwelt a man and his daughter. They both lived in what had once been a small castle, but was now little more than a fortified house on the edge of town.

Count Verity was a tall dark haired man of middling wealth and discernment, although not all that blessed as an intellectual. His daughter, Cinderella, was beautiful, being flaxen haired and blessed with deep blue eyes as clear and deep as the fabled ocean so far away. It was this perhaps that was to be her downfall.

The Count’s wife having died many years before, he decided to remarry a poor widow with two grown daughters purely because she happened to be one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. However, as pretty as the widow and her daughters were, they were not as fair as Cinderella. A fact not lost on the new Countess and her daughters.

Even then all might have been well but less than two years after the wedding Count Verity succumb to a fall whilst hunting and died three weeks later.

Cinderella was heartbroken of course, but that was not all she had to grieve. For no sooner had the good count been placed in the ground when Countess Verity ordered Cinders to vacate her rooms to make way for her own daughters and move to the servant’s quarters.

“Since she is living in the maids garret now, perhaps she should help with the chores rather more,” suggested the eldest stepsister Virella.

A small self-satisfied smile danced cruelly on her lips as she spoke, prompting Denise, her younger sister to snigger.

“Whatever you think,” The Countess said dismissively, “I have no time for the girl.”

“Then she doesn’t need all those dresses does she?” Denise sniggered.

“But…” Cinderella protested.

“We will start with that gown,” Viral sneered prodding Cinder’s particularly fine blue eye-matching silk dress with a sharp finger.

“My father bought me…” Cinders began.

“Your father is dead, now get undressed and get out of our sight,” Virella snapped.

“You can’t do this…” Cinders wailed.

The Countess who had been about to leave rounded on her and glared.

“You are barely 20 and the will states that I have full authority over you until you are 30 or until you are married, whichever is the longer,” she hissed, “And since you cannot get married without my consent…”

She let the full implication sink in.

Cinders was still considering this and pondering her options if she fled when the Countess seized her and pulled towards a divan outside her suite.

“Denise, fetch me my hairbrush,” the Countess barked.

With Virella’s help she was quickly stripped of her blue gown and silk underskirt. It being an age before women’s draws and such like, this left Cinder’s naked bellow her short shift so that her pert bottom was elevated across the Countess’s knee.

By the time Denise had returned with the hairbrush Cinders had already been spanked for long enough to give her a smooth cherry red behind at the Countess’s hands and tender in the extreme as the spanking was continued with the flat side of the brush.

“Oh please, oh mercy,” Cinders wept, but to no avail.

The Countess spanked her stepdaughter for long, long minutes until Cinders was a sobbing heap.

“Now since the maid’s room is not good enough for you, you will sleep by the hearth in the scullery until further notice. And I give Virella full authority to punish you as she sees fit if you don’t mind her,” was the Countess’s parting words.


Days and weeks passed and Cinders soon adjusted to her new regime. For one thing, opportunities for an unmarried woman were not abundant at this time and free of the normal conventions she was able to run in the woods and pick flowers without the constant presence of a chaperon.

True she had chores, but most of these were given to her out of spite and very little she had to do had very much offer the smooth running of the house. So little of what she did, or failed to do, came to the attention of her stepmother.

Of course if Virella or Denise caught her not doing her chores then she was punished. But then she was often punished at other times too.

The Countess, with a passing regard for her duties would infrequently summon Cinders to her rooms. There the girl would be scolded for the tattered rags she wore or her unkempt hair. On these occasions Cinders would be upended over her stepmother’s knee and soundly spanked with the flat side of a hairbrush for long, long minutes before being sent to the corner in the main hall.

Such times were a trial for Cinders because with her hands upon her head her short rags rose up behind to display her russet sheened bare bottom and she was utterly at the mercy of Virella and Denise’s teasing. But these were not the worst of times.

Often when she crept in following a walk in the woods or a day’s bathing in her favourite pool Virella would be waiting for her.

“You have not swept the hearth today, nor have you…” Virella would scold in that self-important way of hers listing a hundred chores that had either been done or were endless tasks and unimportant. The result was always the same.

Cinders would be sent back out to the woods to cut lengths of apple switches or birchen withes and directed not to return until she had collected all that she could carry. Then she would be set at the scullery table making putative rods long into the evening and well beyond supper time.

Then Virella and Denise would come to her and have her bend across the table to present her smooth white bottom to them while they ‘tickled’ it with the first of the birch bundles.

These thrashings were intense, like brands of fire, biting blisters would sear every nook and fold of her exposed bottom as she squealed and wailed at the onslaught. Each licking of viper-like rods lasting for a time well beyond counting until Cinders sobbed piteously.

Then with a grin Virella would take up a fresh rod from a great pile in the corner and begin again and again until every rod was used up and scattered like brittle rain across the scullery.

“That you can have instead of your supper,” Virella would sneer, “Now get this place cleaned up before you get to bed.”

The days that followed these thrashings were the worst. For although Cinders was always left purged and renewed by them, she was too cowed to go out and instead had to get on her knees under close scrutiny of the girls while she scrubbed endlessly clean floors while they stood behind her mocking the violent rash of fire that scared her still exposed bottom.

Sometimes she would be taken over Virella’s lap for another spanking until she cried and pleaded that she would be good. But as stinging-making as this was, it was sometimes a welcome break from the being alone and she came to often ruefully regret it when they at last became bored and left her alone.

And so the summer days would pass picking flowers and swimming naked by herself. A time punctuated only by an occasional spanking from the Countess until she was again caught out by Virella and soundly thrashed without mercy.


And so things went along. The months turned into years as Cinderella experienced an endless round of scrubbing, sweeping, swimming, flower picking and some of the soundest punishments of any girl’s young life. But within it all she found a kind of peace, for after all she knew where she was and no one expected very much from her.

Then one fateful day news reached the castle from the capital. It seemed that the King’s eldest son had decided to marry and all the nobility of the land had been ordered to gather at the royal palace to present their daughter’s for consideration.

“There is going to be a ball,” Denise shrieked excitedly, “There is going to be a ball.”

Virella too was excited by the news but she contained her jumping up and down to the inside as she considered what to wear.

Secretly too the Countess wondered if she not yet beautiful enough to be considered, but then decided that marriage to a callow youth might prove tiresome and so she decided to pin her hopes of aggrandisement in her daughters.

“But what about Cinderella?” Denise asked suddenly.

“What about her?” Virella said dismissively.

“Well the order says all nobility must attend the ball,” Denise said nervously.

To defy a royal order was a grave crime, but if they obeyed to the full regard then not only might Cinderella outshine them all, but someone might begin to ask questions about the equitable disposal of the late Count’s wealth.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Virella sneered.

And after a moment’s pause the Countess too shrugged and went about planning their attendance.

But as luck would have it, and as unlikely as it may seem, not far from the castle lived an old friend of Count Verity, a powerful witch who in absentia had appointed herself as Cinder’s godmother. Clementine Tardyhope had been following Cinder’s fate for some time and had been pondering for years what she might do about the situation when the news reached her that Castle Verity had accepted three invitations to the royal ball.

It did not take her long to realise that Cinderella would not go to the ball and she resolved to remedy that prospect.

Now matters get somewhat confusing. For in some versions of the tale Clementine gathers up various unlikely and assorted goods and manufacturers a coach and horse team complete with servants. Now given that one of the principal objects was a pumpkin, a vegetable completely unknown outside of North America at the time of this tale, we can treat these suggestions with a certain amount of doubt. Especially when carriages and horses were plentiful and a day’s labour for a coachman could be had for a small coin.

But however it happened on the day of the ball Cinders was scrubbed up and dressed in one of her old gowns (or had one conjured if you prefer) and put in a coach bound for the palace.

Now consider this. Firstly Cinderella was astonishingly beautiful and yet did not entirely know it. Secondly she hardly ever went to balls and unlike the rest of the aloof nobility gaped in a wide-eyed and charmingly innocent way about everyone and everything from the moment she arrived. And thirdly, she had no idea who the prince was or what he looked like and so spurned his advances when he asked her to dance.

The combination of these three things insured that Cinders was not only noticed, but became the centre of attention.

The prince was not best pleased to be spurned at his own party and so with righteous boldness he seized Cinders by the arm and dragged her on to the patio overlooking the rose garden.

“What do you mean by spurning my advances?” he demanded, “You could at least pretend to consider my suit.”

“But don’t you know that I am just a scullery maid and in any case you look far too gentle a soul to suit my… disposition,” Cinders said carefully.

Outraged at being described as too gentle and by being tricked by a scullion he upended poor Cinderella across his knee and tumbled up her skirts until he had exposed her pert round bottom. Then grabbing one of her own slippers he brought it down with a sharp report on her behind extract a pretty squeal from the girl.

It was such a satisfying smack that he spanked her again before looking on the girl anew. This, he thought, was going to be fun.

Thereafter he spanked Cinderella for a good few minutes until her bottom was as red and polished as a summer strawberry and she was wailing as ever she had when the Countess had at her with hairbrush.

“Ooh, you… you beast,” Cinders wailed and scurried away holding her behind leaving the amused Prince holding her slipper.

“Well done your highness,” chuckled the Lord Chamberlain emerging from the shadows.

The Prince shrugged and asked, “Who was she anyway?”

“The young Countess Verity I believe,” the Chamberlain answered.

“But I thought…” the Prince frowned.

“The other woman is the Dowager Countess, the girl’s stepmother,” the Chamberlain said smoothly, “I fear they do not get on.”

“Is that so?” the Prince mused aloud, “Perhaps you should make some further enquiries.”

“Your Highness,” the Chamberlain bowed.


A week later the Prince called upon the residents of Castle Verity and asked to see the Countess.

The Dowager Countess greeted the Prince with a gracious smile and invited him into the parlour.

“You are the Countess?” the Prince asked carefully.

“Indeed,” the Countess smiled.

The Prince appeared to ponder this for a moment and then he too smiled.

“I have in my possession a slipper belonging to one of this household,” he said, “I would match it to the owner for it is her that I will marry.”

The Dowager Countess greeted these words with a wide-eyed inhale and clutched at her heart. Before she could make a suggestion the Prince announced that he would see all gentlewomen in residence for a personal comparison.

“There are but two others,” the Countess said hastily.

“Only two you say?” the Prince said sharply.

“Indeed yes your highness,” the Countess gushed, “Myself and my two daughters.”

The Prince paused to see if she would say more and then he nodded and bid her summon the two girls.

“Shall I remove my shoe?” Virella asked eagerly.

“Your shoe?” the Prince said in a puzzled voice, “No, indeed not,” he said imitating the exaggerated manner of her mother. “For I have no interest at all in feet, I intend to match this slipper to a bare bottom.”

All three women gasped and gaped at him.

“I will spank all three of you, youngest to oldest and the one that matches I will wed,” the Prince said barely hiding his smirk.

“Mother, I don’t think…” Denise wailed.

“Yes spank her first and hard too, your highness,” the Countess snapped, “For I am sure she is the one.”

The Prince removed his coat and sat firmly upon an armless chair and took the reluctant Denise across his lap to bare her bottom. He wished at once that he had something more compelling with which to spank her, but nonetheless he did a fair job with the slipper and quite enjoyed himself for several long minutes spanking her until she howled like a sorry banshee at midnight.

“This is not the girl,” he said disdainful and at long last.

Virella gulped and began to back away. She had presumed until then that Denise had been the one, for she was certain she had made no impression upon the prince at all. Now she began to suspect a trap.

“Oh no you don’t,” the Prince growled and seizing the eldest he dragged her over his lap and bared her copious bottom to his wrath.

This time he took an age to spank the woman and by the time he was done Virella’s bottom was a blistered purple and she was sobbing like a queen who had lost her kingdom.

“That leaves only you,” the Prince sighed turning his attention to the Countess.

“I-I… you would marry me?” she spluttered wondering if a spanking was worth the price.

“I doubt it, but you are the only one left,” the Prince chuckled.

“Wait,” the Countess protested, “There is one other.”

“Then bring her to me,” the Prince ordered, addressing the still weeping Denise.

Then grabbing the Countess, he dragged her across his lap and bared her bottom for the longest hardest and soundest spanking he had ever given. So long did he spank her that the poor woman confessed all, over and over. Not that this stayed the Prince’s hand for he spanked her long into the afternoon until everyone in the castle and beyond knew of her fate.

“Now go and stand in the corner,” he snapped, “All of you and leave those bottoms bare.”

As Cinders who had watched all the proceedings with an admixture of awe and apprehension turned to obey the Prince took her arm.

“Tell me little one, why did you lie about being a scullion?” he asked her.

Cinders cast a glance at the row of three red bottoms and their sniffing miserable owners and then back at the Prince and shrugged.

“No matter, first I will spank you and then we will talk further,” he barked at her.

Cinders was quickly bared and once the pert dome of her bottom was uppermost on the royal lap she too was spanked. And while she did not suffer as the Countess had, she was spanked long and hard until she had thoroughly surrendered.

“No you too can go to the corner for you are their equal, at least until we wed and you can all think on that while I take my supper,” the Prince chuckled.


The wedding was a state event and princes from all over Europe came to pay their respects. Cinders had only placed one condition on the marriage and fully expecting her to be avenged on her stepmother and the two sisters, the Prince agreed.

However Cinderella’s request was rather more unusual and after due consideration the Prince acceded. On that we will hear more shortly. Nevertheless the Prince was not content to let the scandalous Dowager Countess Verity and her daughters escape justice for their harsh treatment of Cinders and their usurpation of her position.

The two daughters were married off to modest yeoman farmers who were charged not to spare their bottoms when they gave trouble and work them fairly for the rest of their days. In truth Denise was not so troubled by this and soon settled down much as Cinders had in those early days. But Virella was appalled and rebelled often in the first months of her new life.

On each occasion she was denuded from the waist and belaboured with straps and switches until her bottom was well striped and too sore to sit upon. Then she was set bare bottomed in the corner until her pride was well curbed and she was ready to apply herself to her chores. In time even she found peace and lived like her sister, happily ever after a fashion.

The Dowager Countess did not fare half so well.

About a month after the wedding the palace was quieter than usual and Cinders had awoken early. She still hadn’t got used to wearing fine silk every day and made her way self-consciously to breakfast. She only got as far as the foot of the stairs leading to the grand hall when she saw a maid servant scrubbing at the slate floor.

She was a raven haired beauty in rags so sparse and tattered that as she worked upon her knees the hem of the brief skirts rose up behind to expose the heroic curves of her bottom. It was clear that the woman had been soundly birched for the entire area of her spilt rounds was grazed with prominent tender purple rills.

Even as she thought the woman looked a little familiar the maid turned her woeful face to regard Cinders and the newly-wed princess gasped. It was the Countess her stepmother who was working as a maid in her own palace. The woman’s sad eyes seemed to say ‘go on, mock me.’

“The King has ordered that the former Countess be indentured as a scullion for at least five years,” a stern voice announced.

Cinders whirled around to see her husband the Prince at her side.

“Must we be so cruel,” she asked, her eyes still wide with astonishment.

“Perhaps if she applies herself without complaint in time she might be allowed to wed a worthy peasant,” the prince shrugged. “She has more hope than you did in her position.”

Nearby the kneeling former countess baulked at this news, for ever the schemer she had still held some hope of a reprieve.

Cinderella considered this for a moment and then lightly kissed the prince on the cheek.

“You are so wise my prince,” she said shyly.

The prince embraced her and kissed her back hard.

“Now are you sure you wish me to honour your… request?” he asked carefully.

He glanced significantly at the former countess still on her knees, reluctant to speak too much before the woman.

Cinderella returned a small uncertain nod and then licking her lips she whispered, “Yes.”

“Very well then,” said the prince, “All is prepared.”


In a quiet corner of the royal estates and far from the palace stood a small cottage with lime-washed walls and warm reddish-brown beams all set under a thatched roof. There were roses at the borders and a winding cinder path to the door.

Inside it was much as any humble cottar’s house, but with an open fire place and flagstones upon the floor. There was also heavy oaken furniture that few peasants could afford, but it was as close to such an abode as the prince could conceive of. At the back there was a steep wooden staircase, almost a ladder, leading up to the half open attic floor where there was a wide quilt covered bed.

The clothes on the bed were too brief for decency and were little more than rags, but nonetheless Cinderella stripped herself of her fine silks and packed them away carefully in a battered coffer in the corner. Then she donned the attire so that rough material scratched at her skin and when she pulled at the fabric small rents exposed her flesh.

Then once dressed she descended the steps, taking care to hold on tight as she went and presented herself to her husband who had found the only serviceable chair in the whole house.

“You look very becoming,” he said, “But hardly much like a princess.”

“And when we are here you agreed not to treat me as one,” she said shyly.

He nodded as her eyes strayed to the implements hanging from the walls and she gulped. There were knouts aplenty, riding switches, paddles and all manner of dire rods of correction.

“This floor is filthy,” the prince scolded her, although it was not, “And you have not made up the fire,” which was so, for they had just arrived.

Cinders swallowed and glanced nervously at the grate.

“As this is your first offence here I will merely spank you with your own slipper that I have kept. But in future you can expect much harsher treatment.” The prince sounded severe and not a little angry so that Cinders feared she may have really crossed him in some way.

Then he winked and almost smiled; the last she would see of his kind side for the rest of the day.

It took very little for him to bare her bottom for as soon as she was bent across his knee her short hem rose off her thighs exposing most everything below her waist. If anything the clothing was even more revealing than that worn by the former countess that day.

The slipper landed with a resound splat across both her proffered cheeks and she squealed. It had been some weeks now since her last spanking and that only the tame affair handed out by the prince in her own home. Now he threatened to spank her soundly, the bite of the soft leather across her bottom certainly promised as much.

In a few short moments the blasting sting took away her breath and she began to squirm and kicked at the treatment. Idly she wondered if she was unfair demanding such handling from her gentle prince against his nature. Then she remembered how he had first spanked her without prompting and his treatment of her stepmother and the sisters.

Thinking of the former countess she resolved that when next permitted to return to the palace she would enjoy sitting with a glass of wine and watch the woman endure a good sound birching. Then the sting set her bottom to a real tang and she realised that she would have to settle for standing for a while.

It was then that the first of a great many silver tears splashed onto the floor and she yelled in protest. The prince was settling in now to spank her for a very long time. During their days here she would have to be very diligent indeed, she thought ruefully as she again glanced at the rods and paddles.

Then the burn took her and all she knew was the spanking and the fire in her bottom. No girl ever wanted this, she wailed inwardly, but if it wasn’t a lie then she did not dwell overmuch on such a need.

And they both lived happily and unhappily ever after.

The end.

9 Responses to “A Pantomime”

  1. 1 Kia

    Very creative! I didn’t think it was possible, but this may have just replaced Ever After as my favourite Cinderella story. (Though I do miss the pumpkin bit- pumpkin makes everything better!)

  2. 3 Leigh Smith (aka Sunny Girl)

    You just upped Grimm.


  3. 5 cindy2

    More happily than unhappily I suspect. Goodness, I got into this story, DJ. Thank you.

  4. 7 paul1510

    so much better than the original, ‘happily ever after’, has just become passé. 😉 😛

  5. 8 Dascha

    Loved this one much more than the original great story

  6. Splendid. Still hoping you’ll include an otk Swedish birching in one of your future stories though 😉

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