A/N: This fic plays on one of the "alternate endings" to Ella Enchanted: What if Ella never married Char, and stayed and worked at Dame Olga's manor? As well, I must warn you, there is some violence in this. So actual sex this time. Oh, stop, I hear some of you groaning. Hey, some of my fics have to keep it in their pants! Enjoy!
Disclamier: I do not own Ella Enchanted. It belongs to Gail Carson Levine.
Bow Down to Me
It was like being on a sadistic, perpetual carousel. Everyday employed the same torture; the same hell, and she was forced to visit it and serve its inhabitants without complaint. She was bloody and she was bruised, and there was never a trace of sympathy in her mistress' eyes. They only reflected malice, and that's how things would stay. Ella knew better than to hope for things to change; she wasn't going to set herself up to take a fall. She was smarter than that. Her life was simply destined to be a repetitive mess, and she could do nothing about it.
Ella had become used to her many menial duties. She had busied herself with the task of cleaning the kitchen. Mandy, however, was not there to keep her company. She had taken to visiting the market, and Ella was never allowed to accompany her. Because that would make Ella happy, and anything that caused the girl joy was strictly forbidden. Ella glared out the kitchen window while she dried dishes with a rag. She was seething with rage, and yet she had nothing to take it out on. The dishes? She had already broken one set of Dame Olga's china, and the consequences still shone brightly on her back. Ella knew better.
Ella slammed the glass down on the side of the sink, her hand shaking. She made the mistake of glancing at the hand that grasped the glass in a grip that was probably much too tight. Her knuckles were cracked and bleeding; red and raw. She sighed heavily, and let her head fall back. Her body had become a ravaged, black-and-blue mess, streaked with red. And her father didn't care. He was away, exercising his vigorous greed, sparing no though whatsoever for his afflicted daughter. This, unfortunately, didn't surprise her. He had never cared about her.
And neither had Char.
Her hands began to shake violently; the glass rattled in her grip. Char had abandon her, regardless of her explanations and pleas. He had reprimanded her harshly, and severed the love that Ella thought they had as easily as if it were a meaningless summer fling. Perhaps it was, and she just deluded herself into thinking that he loved her, regardless of what his letters said.
Ella vehemently shook her head, her mind swimming with gut-wrenching images of what could have been.
A lavish royal wedding…Char's lips on hers…the binding phrase, "I do…"
Tears stung her eyes, and the open cuts on her hands began to sting with the effort of clenching her fists. It was all right there in front of her; she could touch it…hell, she could fucking taste it! He had been so close to her, and she could have had him. And yet he wanted to throw her away. Her head swam with the realization…
In his arms…whispering "I love you…"
"I loved you…" Ella hissed, the glass in her left hand rattling again with the force of her anger. She felt her sanity slowly starting to slip away, and she wondered, frantically, if she really wanted to keep it.
"I loved you!" In a dizzying, emotional instant, the glass in her hand had been hurled across the room; it crashed into the walls, shattering the crystal, shards littering the floor. Tears fell from her eyes, burning her cheeks with acidic despair, the final remains of her pride and sanity crumbling, falling away from her….and she didn't care enough to attempt to catch it.
She was crying; sobbing pathetically, and no matter what sorrow was racking her psyche, she still had to clean the kitchen. She grabbed the broom and dustpan from the corner of the kitchen, and shaking violently, she kneeled down beside the remains of the glass.
"I had no idea breaking a shot glass could make you so emotional."
There it was; that nasally, syrupy voice that Ella loathed more than anything; more than her father, more than Char, and more than herself.
"Go away," Ella snapped, her voice just as nasally as her unwelcome visitor's.
"Now, now, Ella," the blonde girl was wagging a finger as her, as if she were disciplining a small, incompetent child. "That's no way to talk to your mistress," she said, kneeling down beside Ella.
"You don't control me," Ella said. Such feeble denial…
"Oh, but, Ella, I do."
"No," Hattie had placed a finger to Ella's lips. Ella glared at her, green eyes alight with loathing.
"At first," Hattie began, trailing her finger down Ella's lips and then down her chin…down her neck…
"You denial was…cute. The way you always found a way to get revenge on me; spiders in my bed, you know." Ella glowered, yet Hattie still continued, her voice both amused and sardonic. "Now, it's just annoying." Her voice was suddenly cold, and her blue eyes were glittering with such malice that Ella flinched ."I think you need to learn your place, Ella."
Ella swallowed hard. The release of her negative emotions had left her exhausted, and she didn't want to waste her remaining strength on trying to oppose Hattie.
"Close your eyes," an order. Ella's eyes closed instantaneously. Her heart was beating painfully fast, she felt so terribly vulnerable. And then she felt soft, sweet lips in hers, and to her surprise, the kiss was wonderfully gentle. Hattie's lips merely pressed against Ella's for the briefest of moments, before Ella had time to brood on how wrong it was.
"Open you eyes," an order that she liked. Ella did so, and found herself face-to-face with Hattie, who was straddling her lap. "What are you--" Ella began, but Hattie kissed her again, this time in a dominating, forceful way. Her teeth nipped at Ella's lips, and the sensation was wonderful and wrong, a paradox of pleasure/pain that came on so fast that Ella was dizzy.
She desperately wanted to pull away; this was wrong, Ella did not want it. She wanted to push Hattie off her, to run away; far away, away from the manor, away from everything…
…and yet she couldn't. She was a slave, and that was the that things would stay; forever.
Hattie broke their kiss and stood up, pulling Ella up by the forearm. She looked the younger girl in the eyes, and said, in a voice so malicious and excited that Ella recoiled--
"Kneel in the glass," she said. The command was positively ludicrous. Ella's eyes narrowed, a dull stinging already attacking her knees, and she kneeled, whimpering as the shards cut into her flesh. Hattie was straddling her lap again, grinning wickedly. Ella could feel the hot, sticky wetness of blood begin to pool on her knees. She felt sick and terrified and livid…
…and yet Hattie kissed her again, lovingly, and that alone made Ella want to fall apart in a fit of despair.
"Do you see now?" Hattie breathed, her voice thick with desire. "You're mine, do you understand? I control you. You will do anything for me. And right now, I want you to spread your legs." As soon as the words escaped her lips, Hattie had moved off Ella's lap, and was now staring expectantly at her. Ella hesitated; and the complaints started straight-away. Her breath was coming in gasps, and nausea clawed at her throat…
…ending her misery (not at all, really, but for a moment), Ella took a deep breath, and separated her knees, and as she did, the glass made thin, stinging cuts on her knees as they dragged across the floor. Hattie stared, sadistically fascinated by Ella's oh-so obvious pain. Her blood had stained the white tiled floor, and with a pang of misery, she realized that it would be either her, or Mandy who would have to clean it up.
Hattie sighed happily, and slid her hand up Ella's skirt, her other hand pressed on a blood-stained tile. Ella's breath caught in her throat; no, this could not be happening…
…but it was, and Hattie's fingers were pressing against her, forcing some sort of response out of her. But Ella refused to give it. Hattie glared at her. "Ella--" "You can't force me to--" "I never said you could speak."
Ella felt as if she had been hit in the face. With a glower, Hattie removed her hand, and quietly said: "Lie down."
Ella did not delay this time. She was grateful to be rid of the sensation of glass piercing her skin. Hattie kneeled down before Ella, crying out in pain when she made contact with the glass. Ella was suddenly incredulous. Hadn't Hattie just asserted herself as the dominatrix? Hadn't she told Ella, and quite plainly, that she was to "bow down" to her? If so, why in the world was Hattie kneeling before Ella, her hands up her skirt again. She slid Ella's knickers off, and let hoisted her skirt up, and the sudden exposure made Ella shiver.
Ella took a sharp intake of breath when Hattie's head was suddenly between her thighs, mouth pressing against the bundle of nerves that tingled mercilessly at the touch.
"You will come for me." Hattie breathed, and the sensations that shot through Ella's body were terribly wonderful, and delightfully sinful.
And Hattie nipped at the sensitive flesh, and Ella arched her back, unable to resist--it was mind-numbing, and she felt high and free of misery for such a perfect moment that she actually made the mistake of feeling invincible---
The front door opened, and Ella heard Mandy complaining (quite loudly) about the rudeness of shop keeps.
Hattie dug her nails into Ella's thighs in frustration. Standing up, she glared down at Ella; her gaze was furious.
"You belong to me, Ella. Do remember that, dear." And then she was gone, storming out of the room.
Ella sighed in relief, and disappointment. She had felt numb for a moment, if that. As she pondered, she failed to notice Mandy walk into the kitchen, arms full of bags of groceries.
"Ella--?!" She stared at her goddaughter in livid disbelief before swooping down upon her, cradling her in her arms, apparently expecting her to burst into tears.
But Ella didn't.
No, she merely longed for Hattie's touch, for her kiss…
…for the feeling of pleasurable numbness that she offered. And for just a brief moment, Ella felt perturbed by Mandy's presence, because it cruelly reminded her that her life was nothing more than a sadistic, worthless cycle.
And when Hattie had kissed her, she felt like she was worth something.