I do not own "Ella Enchanted."

It was really just another one of those things that you wanted in life, but couldn't have. You couldn't have it because it was utterly unattainable. Even though it hovered right in front of you every hour of every day, taunting and pretty with ice blue and blonde. It was horrible, really, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel guilty about it, because you'd never actually touched the forbidden fruit, much less tasted it. Even though you wanted to…even though you needed to…

And you supposed, really, when you got right down to it and properly examined the entrails of the situation, you had a right to taste it, didn't you? You owned it, even. It was your creation, your design that could be twisted and manipulated into anything that you saw fit.

Lately, your usual examinations of her overall character and appearance had gone from innocent to perverse. You noticed things you shouldn't have. You noticed how ample her breasts were, how lovely her face was, how fine and wavy and blonde her hair was, and how her skirts were so short that they would expose so much thigh that her panties were almost visible.

These were things that shouldn't have interested you so intensely.

But they did.

Because she was a woman now, wasn't she? She was seventeen, and off to Prince Charmont's fancy "I'll-marry-anyone-in-this-room" ball. And for some reason, a part of you was jealous. That's right, that emotion that you hadn't felt in a lot of years. Because really, when it came to Sir Peter, your husband, you honestly couldn't bring yourself to care whether he bedded tavern whores or not. But…Hattie…well, she was yours, wasn't she?

Yes, you answered your own questioned, she is.

Suddenly, determination overtakes you, and you feel the need to assert your dominance, something that you usually tried to avoid. At present, however, it was absolutely necessary. After all, she was going to that damnable Prince's ball, so therefore she needed to know her place in the world, and that place was as your plaything.

You knocked on her bedroom door lightly, knowing that she wouldn't be awake yet. Waking up at any point before eleven AM was just so unheard of in your manor.

A groggy, half-muffled "come in," sounded, and you obliged, opening the door and entering, smiling to yourself at how clean and orderly her bedroom always was. She maintained it herself, because she insisted that no maid or butler would ever be able to keep up with her demands when it came to her personal belongings. And you had to agree, her obsessive nature didn't allow for interference from the help.

"Morning, dear," you said, your tone soft and slightly pitying. Sunlight was streaming through her window, straight at her eyes. She turned over onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow.

"Morning, mother." She said, her voice muffled, but her tone was adorably sleepy. You felt a rush of affection well up inside you, and then the chaste sensations melted as soon as she shifted and the blanket fell off her. Beneath the thick red cotton was her lithe form, bare to you expect for the skimpy silk nightgown she wore. You felt desire, desire so intense that you almost fell to your knees.

But you refused to let her have any sort of power over you, so you straightened, and stared her down a parental flair.

"Prince Charmont's ball is tonight," you stated, chewing the inside of your cheek in anger when you remembered that he was hosting not one, but three balls.

"Mm, I know." She said, snuggling into her pillow and smiling. A part of you wanted to laugh at how innocent she looked when he first woke up. Because you knew better than to believe that she was truly innocent. You knew better than to buy into the lie. You were positive that if you were to glance at her soul, you'd see nothing but the filthy lace bindings of mortal sin. And at the moment, you were determined to further desecrate her fragile purity.

"Are you excited?" You asked, and she did nothing but nod, smiling and looking just so adorable when strands of hair fell into her eyes.

Smirking to yourself, you crawled into the bed beside her, and she smiled again, inching closer to you until her body was against yours, shoulder to shoulder. The feel of her soft skin against yours made you close your eyes and sigh.

Your arms wrapped around her waist, and when you fingertips met the heat of her skin beneath the thin material of her nightgown, you felt your own wealth of warmth start to smolder between your legs.

She nuzzled your neck, and closed her eyes, ready to fall back into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

"Mm, Hattie-dear, do stay awake. You have to get ready for the Prince." At this, she snapped to attention, and started to sit up, but you pulled her back down, keeping her in place. She sighed contentedly, and kept her eyes open, staring at the room around her.

"You're very affectionate this morning, mother." She purred, almost enjoying herself too much. You weren't being very chaste, and you and her never did anything like this. Never. So your sudden display of affection should have surprised her more than it pleased her.

Testing the waters, you entwined a finger around one of the straps of her nightgown, and pulled it down. She gasped, but didn't pull away. She seemed to enjoy it…

"Darling," you whispered in her ear and she shivered,

"Yes, mother?"

"Do you know what I want?"

"I-I think so…"

She gasped when you forced her head up, and locked eyes with her.

"This is…"

"…necessary." You interjected, crushing your lips against hers hard. She whimpered, reaching up to cradle your face in her hands. Her mouth opened, and you eagerly slipped you tongue inside, procuring a moan from her. She released your face, and wrapped her arms around your neck, and pulled you down on top of her, her breasts heaving from her excitement and her eyes wild with arousal.

"Mother," she gasped when you broke the kiss and moved down to her neck, which you sucked on eagerly, fixed with the purpose of leaving a mark. You wanted everyone at the gala that night to see it. Wanted them to wonder who had given it to her so you could bask in the pleasure of knowing the delicious, scandalous, naughty truth.

Hattie arched her back and moaned, panting and grasping fistfuls of the sheets beneath her.

"Oh god mother, kiss lower…" she begged, her voice no more than a high-pitched, wanting, greedy fucking whimper that made you smirk with satisfaction.

You pushed the flimsy material of her nightgown up to her chin, exposing her taut stomach and ample breasts. As you stared, admired, really, your hand found it's way to the apex between her legs, and gently, you pressed your palm against her through her panties. The thin cotton was soaked, and as you pulled them down, your fingers made contact with the stickiness of her arousal. It felt like heaven against your skin, and so you savored it, rubbing you fingertips against the crotch of her panties almost reverently, closing your eyes and inhaling the intoxicating scent of sex.

You looked down at her; her cheeks were flushed a bright shade of red, her lips were parted, her eyes were half-closed, and her hair was messy and wavy and beads of sweat were beginning to form on her forehead.

Smirking, you leaned down, and captured a pert pink nipple in your mouth, pressing your tongue against the sensitive, pebbled flesh, using a free hand to pinch the other. Hattie gasped, and arched her back, begging for further stimulation. Pulling away, you kissed her lips once more, before peppering kisses down her neck, between her breasts, and down her stomach.

She was practically writhing now, and you could practically feel the goosebumps rise on her skin as your tongue found its way down her pelvis.

"Oh, my god…" She panted, becoming suddenly very still as you went lower, stopping abruptly when it reached the little bundle of nerves between her thighs.

"Darling," you breathed, and she hissed and moaned when your term of endearment hit her very core.


"You're mine."

Her hands found their way into your hair then; pulling and fisting your blonde locks as her hips bucked into your face and your tongue lapped at her clit greedily. She was barely breathing-merely taking in short, arduous gusts of air. Little whines escaped her, through the ragged pleads of more, and you felt suddenly compelled to pick up the pace.

Relief was already begging to form inside you as you spread her folds apart with your fingers, admiring the sight of her pristine, pink, wet "purity." After this, the Prince would seem like nothing more than a filthy commoner to her, you were quite sure.

"Oh, please…more"

You plunged your tongue into her entrance, then swiftly retracted, repeat-retract-repeat-and with each torturous thrust, Hattie moaned, nearly screaming, as you continued to tease her relentlessly. She was close already; blame it on the curse of virginity. But you weren't going to give it to her so easily.


You were going to make her beg for it.


No, that wasn't quite satisfactory. You wanted her-your creation, your toy…your bitch…your pretty little cuntto scream for it.

"Hattie," you said, between thrusts of your tongue and teasing licks at her clit-"beg me."

"W-what…? Oh…!"

Two fingers-abruptly pushed inside of her, and she all but whined at the penetration.

"You heard me. Beg for it."

You pushed into her hard, curling your fingers and nipping at her clit with overwhelming fervor.

"Mother…please…oh god…oh god oh god oh god please just please mother please I'm yours just-"

Now, that was satisfactory.

You took her clit into your mouth and sucked, while you fingers curled and then stretched-

A resounding "oh!" bounced off the walls, and you felt her come undone beneath you. You sat up, and placed kissed her open mouth.

"I love you, my precious Hattie. Now, go get ready for the Prince."


A/N: …..I am going to hell.