A/N: Wow, I am on a real poetry jag, aren't I? Pity that the spacing is screwed after I upload it; it kind of upsets the rhythm. If anyone has suggestions on how I can fix this, then please, PM me :-D Anyway, this fic contains femslash between Cinderelly and Lady Tremaine; just wanted to warn you again, haha. Enjoy, and remember; reviews are the jelly on the bread ;-) (Oh, and this is in Cinderelly's P.O.V.).

I do not own Cinderella. It belongs to Mr. Walt Disney.

--

Her bed smells like sweat and sex and things that are just wrong.

It clings to the sheets, and I swear to the good god above that nothing will ever get the scent of my sins out.

The taste of her lips are intoxicating enough; good god, stepmother, kiss me again, I'm yours…

I sit and watch the music lesson, admiring the way her fingers grace the ivories, and I remember the way they felt when they were pressing against forbidden places…

I watch and I want and I need and I hate and--

"Cinderella, please, stop staring, it's terribly rude."

I'm their servant, but I'm her slave.

Stepmother! please, touch me there again; it feels so good…

Anastasia and Drizella laugh when she scolds me, but she laughs at them when she kisses me…

They're not as pretty as you, Cinderella…

I don't want to admit that it's true. Mother said to be humble.

But she makes me a naughty, haughty girl.

I have to sit down on her bare bed, clutching the sheets in my hands and pressing a fistful of fabric against the most sacred--yet desecrated--part of my body…just to feel it all again…

I really do love washing her sheets.

-fin.

A/N: Soooo? I tried to really hear Cinderlly's voice in my head when I wrote this; I think that it sounds very her. But that's just me. I want to hear what you think! If you would be so kind…