I do not own Ella Enchanted. It belongs to Gail Carson Levine.

A/N: I'm on an AU-ish kick right now, so expect a lot of those, and then canon-fics. Sometimes, I just need to switch it up.

Another thrust of her hips; another moan, punctuated with screams, yes yes yesyes y e s.

It was all she could say, all she could do besides claw at the sheets beneath her and scream and cry out to the gods in the sky. Gods. How terribly comical. Olga chuckled, nails digging into her hips and dragging downward, ooh break skin break skin brea break my sk in. of course she wanted it to hurt. Of course she wanted pain, pain like what Olga felt .day. you're a princess, you're a princess and here you are, on your back in my bed taking it like a tavern whore. Who knew big girls still played with toys. A gasp tore through her throat, the toy between Olga's hips was suddenly the only thing the princess beneath her could care about, and in a striking instant, she was cumming, back arching, sweat dripping off unhealthily pale skin. She was sick. They were sick. Sick sick sick sick sick. But there was no stopping, no cease and desist. I could get death for this. Oh well maybe I don't care, dear.

"Don't you have a castle to get back to?"

Sardonic as always, Olga pulled the filthy sheets over her, watching with sick fascination as Hattie tried desperately to fix her sex hair. Honey blonde curls flew every which way, damp with sweat and somewhat sticky from where cum-stained fingers had gripped it and pulled.

"I do, and don't you have a shattered life to get back to?"

The smirk was evident in her voice, and Olga wanted to tear her to pieces for it. Of course, she did a good job of reducing her to a pathetic mass of moans and groans, but that was a different story.

"As a matter of fact, I do, little girl."

Hattie scoffed, "Not so little when I slip my head between your legs, hmm?"

Olga smirked, no, not so little. The bitch was next in line to be queen. Her bastard of a brother had taken to finding love in all the wrong places, and Hattie was slated to marry a littleshitprince that made Olga's skin crawl.

"He's not good enough for you," Olga declared, pulling the sheets over her head and turning over onto her side. She was hiding. Hiding like she hid herself from the world after losing her husband and her fortune. She was a mess. At least Hattie thought she was a hot one.

"I knew you would say that," Hattie finally turned around, grimacing when she touched the hickies Olga had unceremoniously left on her neck.

"It's because it's true, I'm right and I'll always be right."

"You're not my mother, you can't decide who's good for me and who isn't."

"Some would say I'm not good for you."

"Everyone would say that."

Hattie slid back into bed, "Remember when we first met? At the ball? How desperate and charming you were." She slid beside Olga, pulling the sheet off her, and placing a kiss on her lips.

"I just wanted to do bad things to you." Olga gasped against the kiss, and Hattie couldn't help but smirk.

"My mother has her concerns about you."

Olga pulled Hattie on top of her, hands gripping her hips, teeth finding their way into the kiss. She bit Hattie's bottom lip, and the blonde princess groaned from pain.

"I wonder if she knows," Olga let her head fall back, offering Hattie the chance to claim her neck. Hattie took it, devouring the pale flesh eagerly, licking sucking biting; g.

"I know she does."

Blood dripped from Olga's neck, and Hattie bit down, claiming her fucked up Dame as hers, and hers alone.

"My dirty little princess," Olga gasped, as Hattie kissed lower, teasing her flesh with her tongue.

"Your dirty little whore."