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candycandy00 · 5 months ago

Note

congrats on 2k!! Character: Gojo AU Setting: Mascarade Level: NSFW Mood: Writer's choice Kinks: Praise and Spanking

Once Upon a Time - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! First up is Cinderella starring Gojo! You met Prince Gojo as a child and fell in love, but you’re sure he doesn’t remember you. When you’re forced to take your stepsister’s place as his “pleasure” for the evening, you’ll get your reunion, but it might not be what you hoped for.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Fairytale AU. Gojo as Prince Charming. Reader as Cinderella. Dubcon. Coercion. Oral. Spanking. Rough sex. Light bondage. Mentions of abuse by the wicked stepmother and stepsisters.

Any and all feedback would be appreciated so much! There will probably be three parts. Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear.

The crowds are bigger than usual today as you walk along the cobblestone street, carrying a bag of items you bought at the local market. You’re in a hurry to get home and start dinner before your stepmother gets angry. If you’re even a few minutes late, she’ll either take the rod to your arms or not allow you to eat.

Someone in the crowd calls out, “Look, there he is!” Another voice, feminine, excitedly yells, “Prince Gojo!”

The sound of his name stops you cold in the middle of the street. You look out across the river of people, across the roadway reserved for carriages. On the opposite street, flanked by guards in crisp uniforms, you spot him.

He’s difficult to miss. Taller than everyone else nearby, with stark white hair, flawless skin, and crystal blue eyes brighter than the sun. He’s smiling and waving at the people as he makes his way down the street.

You can’t help stopping to watch, dinner be damned, because you and the prince have history. Even if you’re certain he doesn’t remember it.

You were ten, he was twelve, and you didn’t even realize he was the prince. He’d introduced himself as Satoru when he found you ducked behind a set of stone steps leading to a flower shop in the town square. You had run away from your house after the first time your stepmother used a rod to beat welts into your arms and hands. You were crying, covered in marks and bruises, still grieving over the recent loss of your father.

That’s when a radiant boy with an angelic smile appeared, asking you what was wrong. You were embarrassed to be seen that way, so you wiped your face and said you were fine.

“You don’t look fine,” he’d said. “Want me to help you?”

You couldn’t fathom how a boy so close to your age could help you, but you were glad that someone wanted to. Soon after, you heard voices calling out the name he’d given you, and he blanched. “Ugh, that’s my nanny,” he said with a grimace. Then he looked straight at you with those beautiful clear eyes and said, “You ran away from home too, right? Let’s run away together!”

Satoru took your hand and pulled you out from behind the steps, dragging you along with him as he ran down the street. As a child, at that moment, you thought you were actually free of the abuse you endured at home. Satoru was going to take you far away, and you’d never come back.

Of course, you were both children, so running away together meant making it to the edge of the woods and playing among the trees for a few hours. You held hands and danced beneath the shade of the forest canopy, chased a rabbit that refused to let you pet it, pretended to be a princess that he rescued from an imaginary ogre, and laughed together under the setting sun.

It was the most wonderful day you’d ever had, until you both got hungry. When he suggested going back, your heart sank, but even at that age you understood the reality of your situation.

Back in town, you stopped in front of a fancy boutique and looked through the display window. It was full of dazzling dresses, hats, and jewelry. But what drew your attention most was the pair of delicate glass slippers, with their shiny inlaid stones and lovely shape.

Satoru stood beside you. “Do you like those?”

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, staring at them longingly. You’d seen them there many times before, and you spent every available moment standing in front of that window, enjoying the view.

Satoru disappeared, and a few seconds later a lady came to the other side of the window and retrieved the slippers. You watched in shock as Satoru walked out of the boutique with a package in his hands. He reached it to you. “Here. We probably won’t see each other again for a long time, but maybe these can cheer you up when I’m not around.”

You opened the package, already knowing yet not believing what was inside. Those beautiful shoes were in your hands! Even though you didn’t fully understand how valuable they were, you did grasp that not just anyone could walk in and buy them. “But… they cost a lot of money, don’t they?”

He grinned. “That’s no problem for me. And I know they’re too big for you now, so when you’re older, and they fit you, come see me. I’ll make sure you never cry again!”

You hugged the shoes to your chest as you looked up at him. “How will I find you? Do you live nearby?”

He laughed. “Oh, you’ll find me. Trust me.”

At that moment, a royal guard appeared, looking a bit frazzled. “There you are! The whole castle is in a state of panic, Your Highness! Where have you been?”

Satoru shrugged. “I was just playing with my friend.”

The guard called to another passing guard, “I found Prince Gojo!”

Your eyes went wide as you realized exactly who you’d been playing with all day. As the guards led him away, he looked back at you over his shoulder and winked.

From that moment on, you have been deeply, madly, in love with Prince Gojo.

When you got home that night, you managed to hide the shoes before your stepmother found you and punished you severely. You knew she would either take them for one of her own daughters who were slightly older than you, or sell them.

Occasionally, when you’re certain that no one will see, you pull the shoes out and admire them. They make you think of Satoru, of his beautiful crystal eyes. You’ve been trying them on for years, and now that you’ve grown up, they fit you perfectly.

He told you to find him, but you know exactly where he is. At this very moment, he’s only feet away from you. But the reality you’ve come to accept, one he probably didn’t realize himself as a child, is that someone like you could never approach the crown prince. You’re the daughter of a minor lord who died years ago, leaving his meager fortune to his wife, your stepmother, who only shares enough with you to keep you alive. You have nothing but shabby old dresses to wear, and you smell of sweat and hard work.

No, best to simply love him from afar, to long for him, ache for him, but never reach out to him.

As you watch, he disappears into a cafe, two of his guards following and the rest remaining outside to keep the crowd from storming the place. Prince Gojo is extremely popular with the common people, especially since his father has basically turned most of the ruling duties over to him. Poverty is rare, crime is even rarer. Prince Gojo’s policies have benefitted everyone. Add to that his otherworldly beauty and his friendly personality, and you have a monarch that’s beloved by all.

A few times a month, he comes to the small town surrounding his castle and spends all day and evening there. He interacts with the people, hears their concerns, and patronizes local businesses. You’ve heard whispered rumors that he invites pretty young noblewomen to his room at the inn. Your heart burns to think of him with other women, so you try not to think about it at all. You’ve also heard that he’s being encouraged to take a wife soon. You try to think even less about that.

In the end, you make it home ten minutes late, and your stepmother gives you ten lashings across your extended arms with the rod. You barely flinch when the rod connects with your skin. You’re used to it by now. Even though you’re an adult now, you have no means of surviving without her support. She controls your father’s estate after all. You have no choice but to endure her abuse.

While you cook dinner, your two stepsisters sit at the table, demanding to know when you’ll be finished.

“Just a few more minutes,” you tell them, stirring the pot of stew on the stove before checking the bread in the oven.

“It better not be longer than that,” one of them says, “or we’ll tell mother you’re slacking off!”

The other laughs loudly. “So hurry it up, Cinderella!”

You wince. Cinderella isn’t your name. It’s a cruel nickname your stepsisters gave you after you cleaned the fireplace one day and emerged covered in dirt and cinders.

Without another word to them, you finish dinner. When your stepmother joins them at the table, you serve all three of them bowls of soup, along with fresh buttered bread, and then take your much smaller serving to your tiny bedroom to eat alone.

*************************

Prince Gojo is sitting in one of the finest restaurants in town. The food doesn’t compare to the luxurious dishes he’s served at the castle, but he enjoys trying new dishes. He smiles to the cook who brought out his plate.

“It looks delicious!” he tells the elderly man.

The man beams with pride. “Thank you so much, Your Highness! We’ve prepared a special dessert for you as well. Please let us know when you’re ready to try it.”

Gojo grins at him. “That sounds great! I appreciate your kindness!”

Once the man walks away, Gojo looks across the table at his friend-turned-advisor. “So? Do you have things lined up for me tonight?”

Geto Suguru smiles as he takes a bite of his own meal and slowly chews, then wipes his mouth. “Not yet, but I will by nightfall. Just enjoy your dinner and stop being horny for five minutes.”

Prince Gojo laughs. “You know I can’t do that! I don’t know why you don’t pick a girl for yourself. I see the way they look at you. They’d probably rather sleep with you than me!”

Geto shakes his head. “You bring enough drama to my life already. I don’t need romantic entanglements making it worse.”

Gojo lowers his voice. “Romance has nothing to do with it. Just unmarried adults enjoying each other’s bodies for the evening.”

“Regardless, I’ll pass for now,” Geto says. He takes another bite, swallows, then asks, “Do you still want the lady I bring to wear a mask?”

“Of course. When I’m in town looking out over my loyal subjects, I don’t want to be recognizing faces and remembering fucking their brains out.”

Gojo says it in an airy, careless way, but it’s important to him. It would be too awkward to climb out of his carriage and see a dozen faces he’s covered in his cum.

He’s been inviting ladies from town to visit him at the inn for a few years now. When he first came of age, he started going to high end brothels. But his presence in such places caused a scene every time, and he felt too exposed to try some of the more… daring activities he was interested in. The last thing he needed was a bunch of vulgar rumors going around about him.

It had been his friend Geto’s idea to invite noble ladies to privately visit his room at the inn. Being a rich, handsome prince who is actively searching for a wife means there’s no shortage of women throwing themselves at him. But he had stipulations: no women under age twenty, no married women, and no women who were not excited to be there.

Geto does the selecting and vetting, keeping a keen eye out for any hints of someone being pressured or coerced. If he gets even the faintest whiff of something like that going on, he shuts it down immediately. That’s why Gojo can relax and enjoy himself, even if the ladies pretend to be shy or reserved at first.

Prince Gojo signals for the old man who owns the restaurant. “Sir, I’m ready for my dessert now!” he calls, then he gives Geto a sly grin. “At least my first dessert of the evening.”

*************************

Later that night, after you’ve cleaned the kitchen, tended the fireplace, and sewed a loose button back onto your stepsister’s coat, you finally sit down for the night and pull out a tattered old book to read. You’ve read it dozens of times, but it’s one of your favorites.

You only make it a few pages in before your door bursts open. Your stepmother gives you a stern look and says, “Come to the kitchen. Now.”

This is somewhat unusual for her, as the woman is normally in bed by this hour. You wonder what’s going on as you walk into the kitchen behind her and find both your stepsisters sitting at the table. One of them looks upset and the other looks worried.

Your stepmother walks over to stand behind them. She puts one hand on the shoulder of the one who looks angry. “We have a situation that needs resolving,” the older woman says, lightly rubbing her daughter’s arm. “This little fool volunteered to go see the Prince at the inn tonight.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the chest. Your voice sounds tiny and hollow when you say, “What?”

“Obviously she’s not going,” your stepmother says, and you feel a sense of relief.

The stepsister turns to look at her mother. “But I want to go see the Prince! He’s so handsome!”

There’s fury in her eyes as your stepmother says, “No daughter of mine is going to be a whore, even for the Prince.”

Your stepsister frowns. “I’m an adult! I can do as I please!”

“Not while you live under my roof!” your stepmother says firmly. “Now we have to do something to fix this. Changing your mind suddenly would anger the Prince, and we do not want to risk his wrath.”

Without really thinking, you speak up. “I don’t think he’s the kind of person to get angry about that.”

Your stepmother glares at you. “Stupid girl! What would you know about the Prince? He’s a man, and they’re all insatiable beasts! No, the only way to salvage this night is to send someone in my daughter’s place,” she says, looking at you pointedly.

No. No no no. She can’t be thinking of sending you, can she? You don’t know which scenario is more horrific: your abusive stepsister being intimate with the man you’ve loved for most of your life, or you having to be intimate with him while he doesn’t know or care about you at all. You’ve never even been touched by a man before. “I can’t,” you say weakly. “Please don’t make me do this.”

Your stepsister looks between you and her mother. “You’re going to send her?! Cinderella?! That’s not fair! I want to be the one who goes!”

An outburst like that from you would have earned you at least fifty lashes, but your stepmother merely gives her a warning look and says, “Think about what you’re saying. The Prince will sully her, use her up, and then toss her aside. She’ll be forgotten by morning. Do you really want that for yourself?”

You feel tears in your eyes, and your heart is pounding wildly. Is that really what will happen? You’d rather die. You’ve dreamed of the Prince making love to you since you were a teenager with blossoming desires, but if it’s just hollow, loveless sex from his perspective… you can’t imagine anything more unbearable.

“I won’t do it,” you say, surprising yourself. You’ll take however many lashes you have to. You can’t endure having your heart broken in such a way.

Your stepmother looks at you with cold eyes. “You’ll do it or you’ll get out of my house. Right this minute. I’ll cut you off completely.”

You’re stunned by the threat. This is your house! You were born here, all your memories of your father are here. You sometimes go into his untouched study just to feel his lingering presence. The thought of being locked out, with nowhere to go, while these people lounge around in your family home, fills you with both sorrow and rage.

“Alright. I’ll do it,” you say, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

You’re given one of your stepsister’s dresses to wear. It doesn’t fit perfectly but it looks much better than the rags you normally wear. Before dressing, you wash with rose-scented soap, fix your hair as best you can, and even dab on a bit of your stepsister’s lip color. Before leaving, you glance at the small cupboard in your room where the glass slippers are hidden in a brown cloth bag behind some books.

Would he remember you if you wear them? Would the sight of them stir some distant hazy memory of a pitiful little girl he was nice to once? You open the cupboard and pull out the bag, clutching it in your hands. If they could make him feel anything at all for you, even just a tiny spark of nostalgic affection, maybe you could endure this.

You carry the nondescript bag with you as you walk out the door, not wanting your stepmother to see them. There’s a carriage waiting for your stepsister outside, but you’re the one who climbs in. You change out your plain satin slippers for the ones made of glass, praying they will give you strength.

When the carriage arrives at the inn, a guard helps you out and directs you to go inside. Your heart is like a hammer in your chest. You’re finally going to be face to face with the man you’ve longed for all these years.

And he’s going to have no idea who you are.

The inside of the inn is cozy, not too lavish, but clean and comfortable. There’s a welcome room, with a desk set up to accept guests. There’s a set of wooden stairs going to the upper floor, which itself creates a balcony over looking the welcome area. You can see rows of doors from down here, and you wonder which one Prince Gojo is waiting in.

Another guard ushers you up the stairs. You walk very carefully, afraid of damaging the glass shoes. At the top, a door opens and you see the Prince’s advisor, Geto Suguru. You’ve seen him often in town, almost always by Prince Gojo’s side. He gestures for you to come inside, so you do, finding yourself in a room much larger than you expected. There are two chairs, and Geto takes one while telling you to take the other.

As you walk across the wooden floor, your shoes make more noise than you intended. Geto looks down at them.

“Glass slippers? How unusual,” he says before his eyes flick upwards to study your face. “What’s your name?”

You feel a stab of panic. Should you give your stepsister’s name? Or would you get in trouble for lying? “Um, would it be alright if I use a nickname?”

“Of course.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Then call me Cinderella.”

He raises his eyebrows at this, but says nothing more about it. “I’d like to discuss some rules before you go to see the Prince,” he says. When you nod, he continues. “You are not to discuss anything that happens in the Prince’s room, with anyone. Even your family. The Prince has some rather… eccentric tastes, so some of the activities he engages in might seem strange or perverse. You are welcome to refuse these activities if they make you uncomfortable. If at any time you decide you don’t want to do something, simply tell him to stop, firmly and clearly. Our Prince may be a ravenous beast, but he’s still a gentleman. He will treat you as a lady and respect your wishes.”

You feel a bit of relief to hear that, though you wonder if word would somehow get back to your stepmother if you refused to sleep with the Prince.

“Do you understand?” Geto asks, watching your face intently.

You fidget in the chair. “Yes, I understand.”

He’s quiet for a moment, staring at you. Then, “Did you come here by your own choice?”

You look up at him in alarm. Does he know? How could he? You have to cover for yourself somehow. “I want to see the Prince,” you say, and the honest emotion in that statement gives your voice an earnest edge.

“I see,” he says, then he stands up. He pulls something from a pouch and hands it to you. It’s a lovely silk mask in the shape of a butterfly. “The Prince insists you wear a mask to protect your own identity. It’s to help you feel less self conscious.”

You hold the mask in your hands for a moment before pulling it on, tying the ribbons behind your head to secure it. You’re not sure how you feel about it. He definitely won’t recognize you now, but there was almost zero chance of that happening anyway.

When ready, Geto opens the door and leads you out, then to the next door over. He knocks three times, then opens the door. “Go on in,” he tells you with a charming smile.

You take a deep breath, willing your hands not to shake and your heart not to race. Then you walk into the Prince’s room, Geto behind you.

Prince Gojo is sitting on the bed, but he stands up when you enter. Here in front of him, you can see just how tall he’s grown over the years. With a start, you realize this is the closest you’ve been to him since that day when two children held hands and danced in the woods. His face is even more beautiful up close, his eyes even more striking. And he’s wearing that same easy going smile you loved when you first met him.

“Allow me to present Miss Cinderella,”

Geto says.

“Cinderella? That’s a unique name,” Gojo says, those eyes you love so much looking right at you.

“Th-thank you, Your Highness,” you say, lowering your head in a tiny bow. He spoke to you! And you spoke to him!

Looking at the floor, you notice that the room is covered by an ornate rug. That’s why your shoes made no noise. You hope he notices them, but so far his eyes seem to be drawn to your chest and your hips.

“It’s nice to meet you, Cinderella,” he says, looking at your eyes through the holes in your mask. “Let’s enjoy each other’s company tonight.”

You nod, too nervous to speak again. Beside you, Geto laughs breezily. “Don’t be so shy. The Prince does bite, but I’m told it feels marvelous.”

Prince Gojo frowns at him. “Suguru! Don’t say things that might give her the wrong idea!”

Geto shrugs, then says, “I’ll take my leave now. You two have fun.”

Prince Gojo is smiling at you. “We definitely will.”

Before leaving, Geto’s eyes shift to your feet for a moment, then back to your face. He leans closer to you and says in a quiet voice, “I hope your Prince is everything you’ve dreamed of.” And then he’s gone, sweeping out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

Now alone with the Prince, you feel your nerves becoming increasingly frayed. He steps closer to you, probably eager to begin. He’s a healthy man in his prime, after all. You’re still looking down, afraid to meet his gaze. His eyes are so piercing, they scare you.

Suddenly you feel his hand on your face, and he gently tilts your head up so that you have to look at him. “Are you actually frightened?” he asks, the self assured grin from before gone. “Or are you just shy?”

“I’m just shy, Your Highness,” you tell him, trying to keep your voice from quivering. “I volunteered of my own accord.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says. “Now just relax, and I’ll take you to heaven.”

You blink up at him, feeling heat spread over your skin. “O-okay.”

He leans forward, and you think he might kiss you, but instead his head dips and he kisses your neck. “Take off your clothes,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver at his touch, your nerves practically on fire now. He steps back to give you space, and begins unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. With a feeling of defeat, you step out of the glass slippers and sit them aside. You glance over to see that he didn’t even seem to notice them. He’s too busy pulling the belt off his pants.

With his shirt now open, you can see his finely toned chest and abdomen. He looks like he was carved from stone. You blush furiously as your fingers fumble with the buttons and ties on the bodice of your dress. You’ve never worn it before tonight, so you’re unfamiliar with its various closures.

Prince Gojo steps close again and helps you with the dress. You can’t help noticing that his hands seem practiced and skilled at opening women’s dresses. When he’s done, you’re left in your thin but modest slip, feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been. The fabric is white, nearly sheer, with thin straps at your shoulders. It hangs to your knees, and beneath it is only a pair of panties.

He doesn’t remove your slip right away, perhaps giving you more time due to your shyness, but his large warm hands glide over your body as he kisses your throat again.

You can’t keep yourself from trembling at the feel of his soft lips pressed against your skin. He draws back to look at you, at what’s visible of your face beneath the mask. His thumb traces over your red lips, painted with your stepsister’s lipstick.

He wears the most angelic expression as he looks down into your eyes and says, “I’m gonna cum in this pretty little mouth.”

You draw in a sharp breath, your heart pounding so hard you’re certain he can hear it. Before you can say anything in response, he’s tugging your arm to pull you toward the bed, where he sits down. He spreads his thighs apart, gives you a sultry look, and says, “Kneel for your Prince.”

Part of you wants to flee from the room and never look back. But another part wants to do literally anything he says. Caught between these two urges, you ease yourself down to your knees before him. He opens his pants and reaches one hand in to pull out his stiff, hard cock. You stare at it, comparing it to all the silly daydreams you entertained over the years, trying to imagine what it looks like. Somehow, it’s even more magnificent than you pictured in your mind. Tall and pale and beautiful, like him, with a tip flushed slightly pink. It’s much bigger than you thought it would be, though it’s also the first one you’ve ever seen outside of crude drawings.

He reaches down and takes one of your hands, then pulls it to his thick shaft. Your fingers curl around it carefully, and he moves your hand up and down. “There, just like that,” he says, releasing your hand so that you’re stroking him on your own. It feels strange. You assumed a cock would be a bit more delicate. You’d seen boys fall over in pain if they were hit there, after all. But Prince Gojo’s is sturdy, firm, strong. You notice the tip is glistening, and you lean forward slightly to get a better look.

“Why don’t you have a taste?” he asks, staring down at you, a casual smile on his lips.

Your eyes shift nervously from his beautiful face to his leaking cock. You lick the edges of your lips, forgetting the lipstick you’re not used to wearing. Then you extend your tongue and flick it lightly over his tip, smearing some of the clear fluid. It tastes different from what you expected. Not bad or gross at all. It simply tastes like him. You give another feathery lick, then another, and then you feel his hand on your head, patting it.

“You’re adorable,” he says, smiling sweetly at you. “Now open wide and take my cock down your throat.”

You flinch at the words. Hearing such vulgar things being said in his lovely, pleasant voice is making your head spin. But you do as you’re told, opening your mouth widely. And as he pulls your head forward, you feel his hard cock slide between your lips and rest on your tongue.

Yet another act you imagined countless times. And now, you have the cock of the man you love in your mouth, so instinct takes over. Your tongue moves, licking the meaty shaft and drenching it in your saliva, helping it to ease further in. Your lips finally reach the base, creating a red ring there as you struggle to breathe through your nose. He fills your whole mouth, and much of your throat. It’s uncomfortable, but you’ve dreamed of having him in your mouth for so long, you don’t mind the ache.

You feel confused as you begin bobbing your head, moving up and down his length with your lips. The Prince you’ve longed for is using your mouth for his own pleasure, not really caring who you are. But this is your only chance to touch him, to taste him. Should you just let go of your romantic dreams and let yourself enjoy the physical sensations? Can you even separate the two?

After a while, Prince Gojo takes hold of your hair and pulls your head back, not harshly but firmly. “Mouth open, tongue out,” he says, “and don’t spill any, Cinderella.”

On your knees in front of him, you open your lips and let your tongue hang partially out of your mouth as you look up at him. Your lips are quivering, your eyes glassy, as he strokes himself a few more times before shooting ropes of sticky cum onto your tongue. Most of it slides into your open mouth, but some drip down your chin. Reflexively, you catch some of it with your fingers and lick them clean.

This cum is precious to you. It’s proof you pleased him, and it comes from your beloved. You feel the need to savor it. You glance up to find the Prince staring at you with slightly widened eyes, lips parted, a pink tint to his face as he watches you enjoy his seed.

For a moment he doesn’t say a word, seeming almost transfixed, but then he laughs and says, “Oh no, you spilled a few drops. Looks like you disobeyed your Prince! How shall I punish you?”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” you tell him, still licking your lips to gather any cum you missed.

He stands up, then helps you to your feet. “To start with, let’s get rid of this,” he says, sliding your slip up your body and over your head. His eyes move to your bare breasts, making you blush again, but then he reaches forward and pulls your panties down to your ankles. You step out of them somewhat clumsily, trying to keep your legs together.

Taking his seat on the bed again, the Prince takes a moment to look you up and down. Your face is burning with embarrassment. The Prince is seeing every inch of you!

After a moment, he takes hold of your arm and pulls you toward him. He’s still wearing his unbuttoned shirt and his pants, making you feel even more exposed. You allow him to move and maneuver your body however he wants, and soon you’re in the most humiliating position of your life: lying face down, your naked body draped across his lap.

He pulls your wrists together behind your back, holding them in place with just one hand while his other hand rubs over your ass. When he squeezes the flesh there, you give a tiny squeak of surprise. You can’t see his face from this position, but you hear him laugh. It’s a sound you’ve always adored. Then you hear his smooth voice, a little deeper than usual, say, “So cute and helpless. So many things I could do to you.”

The words make you squirm a little in his lap, and to your horror you realize you’re wet. You can feel a slickness between your thighs, and you pray he doesn’t notice.

His hand leaves your ass, and then suddenly comes back down in a slap that makes you yelp and jerk. His other hand is still firmly holding your wrists, so you’re still in position as his hand comes down again, making a loud sound that reverberates around the room.

It doesn’t really hurt, just a bit of a sting. You have plenty of experience being hit by someone who actually wants to hurt you, so you can tell the difference right away. No, what makes this so bad is the embarrassment, the vulnerable position, and the fact that you can feel your arousal smearing all over your thighs. Should you tell him to stop? He would, you know that. But your heart is so conflicted. You want to be with him, in any capacity, but simply being used this way is emotionally damaging.

He gives a few more slaps to your ass, then rubs it again. When his hand slides down between your legs and his fingers reach the wetness there, you freeze, going still as a statue, barely even breathing. You feel his fingers part the damp flesh and then stroke the sensitive little nub inside.

“Ahhh!” You let out a shameful cry, trying to jerk away from him, but he’s still holding you in place.

He withdraws his hand. “You’re drenched, Cinderella. Do you like being at my mercy? Restrained and helpless?”

Your mind races. Do you enjoy it? Of all the scenarios you imagined with Prince Gojo, this one was never part of it. But you can’t deny the thrill of being held down by him.

He gives another slap, and you cry out again. There’s a pause, where he doesn’t move or say anything, then his hand releases your wrists. You feel him rub gently over one of your arms, and remember the welts covering them.

Suddenly he turns you over in his lap and pulls the both of you up. “Let’s do something else,” he says, for the first time seeming a tiny bit awkward. He directs you to lie down on your back while he pulls off his shirt and pants, finally standing fully nude in front of you.

It’s a glorious sight. Every single inch of him is truly beautiful. His clothes had made him seem thinner than he actually is, and now you can see the taut muscles along his arms and torso. He notices you staring, and grins.

You blush and look away, but it does you no good. In the next second he’s climbing onto the bed and pushing your legs widely apart. You gasp in surprise, mortified, but as he stares down at your dripping, bare pussy, there’s a hunger in his eyes.

“I told you I’d take you to heaven, remember?” he asks, and then his head lowers, and you feel his lips on your delicate flesh.

Your body jolts, but he has his arms around your thighs, holding them apart while his fingers open your folds. His tongue glides over your swollen clit, coating it in his saliva. You begin to tremble, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as his lips close around the little bundle of nerves, suckling gently. He pulls away, only to press his tongue inside you as his thumb rubs circles into your clit.

You cry out, over and over, your back arching off the bed. You love him so much! And he’s bringing you such pleasure! You think your heart might burst.

Something is going to burst. You feel something building, like pressure inside your core. His thumb is relentless, becoming more aggressive as his tongue gathers your wetness and slurps it into his mouth. You’re so sensitive, the stimulation almost hurts.

But he keeps going, his thumb only moving faster, applying more pressure, until finally the dam breaks. Pleasure washes over you like a flood, your body twitches and shakes, and Prince Gojo’s thumb slows to languid, soft motions while you ride out your first orgasm.

You’re left panting, dizzy, your skin flushed and dewy. You look up to see the Prince raised up on his knees, staring down at your spread open body, licking his thumb.

If you can burn one image from this night into your memory forever, this is it. He’s never been more gorgeous. But then your eyes move down and you see that he’s fully erect again, his cock somehow looking even bigger than before.

He slips his hands under your ass and lifts your hips from the bed, pulling you to him. You almost panic. You almost tell him to stop. You wanted your first time to be with the Prince. But you wanted it to be romantic, full of love. Now, he’s about to take your virginity, but he doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even know your name.

You close your eyes, deciding to let it happen. You suppose you should consider yourself lucky to be deflowered by the man you love.

You feel him push into you, slowly, and you’re shocked by how deep he goes. You feel yourself stretching, maybe even ripping, as a small amount of warm fluid, probably blood, leaks out around his cock. He’s clearly trying to be careful, but he’s just too big, and his fast breathing indicates he’s having a hard time holding himself back.

You feel his hand on your face. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice strained. You nod, then you hear him say, “Look at me.”

You open your eyes, only to be met with his stunning eyes boring into you. “I’m gonna start moving, okay?”

“… okay,” you say in a tiny voice, feeling like a small prey animal beneath a giant wolf.

He begins thrusting then, slowly at first but going so very deep. At some point he picks up speed, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Soon he’s practically slamming into you, grunting each time his cock buries itself to the hilt in your aching pussy.

You feel so many emotions, you can barely make sense of them.

The man you’ve loved for so long is inside you!

He doesn’t care about you at all.

He’s enjoying your body, you make him feel good!

He’s done this with countless other women.

He made your body come alive with pleasure!

He’s being too rough with you.

That roughness, that pain, is somehow turning you on. You’re practically gushing as he pounds into you! Your body is as confused as your heart. You can’t even tell what hurts or feels good anymore. Then you realize with some alarm: you don’t care. You don’t care if he hurts you. You only want to feel him.

Completely overwhelmed, you feel tears flood your eyes, and you can only hope the mask hides your face enough, that you can hold back your sobs, so that Prince Gojo doesn’t realize how you feel.

***********************

Prince Gojo grunts when he feels Cinderella clench his cock tightly, like her pussy doesn’t want to let him go. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this riled up.

At first, he thought she was just putting on a shy act to tantalize him, but when he thrust into her for the first time he realized she was a virgin. Probably not an act then.

That probably should have concerned him, but she’s so wet and so tight, the little moans and cries she makes are so sweet, that he’s losing control of himself inside her.

He hasn’t missed the way she looks at him, even through the mask he can see there’s something beyond the usual admiration or shallow crush on a popular figure. And the way she licked up his cum as if it were her last meal… he literally felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

And so he shoves into her as deeply as possible, loving the feel of her around him, and when he looks down at her face again, he realizes she’s crying. Tears are dripping down her cheeks, under the mask, and her body is shaking. It’s almost enough to make him stop. Almost.

Instead he leans down over her, pulling her upper body up and into his arms, cradling her. “You’re so pretty,” he says in his softest voice. “You feel so good. You’re taking my cock so deep…”

She sniffles, burying her face in his shoulder, her hands clutching his arms. Then he hears her voice, so quiet yet so clear, say, “Satoru…!”

He freezes, his eyes wide. Her face is hidden from him, but he heard her clearly. None of the women who visit him at the inn have ever called him by his first name. It’s always “Your Highness”, or if they’re the bold type, “Prince Gojo”.

But the way she said it, as if it was natural to her, surprised him. His name, a personal, intimate thing for him, reserved only for those closest to him, spilled from her soft ruby lips like a prayer. The sound of it, somehow familiar, sent a shiver rippling through his body.

He pushes in deeper, his fingers digging into her skin, and she cries out, clenching him even tighter. Her whole body quivers as she cums again, little sobs wracking her form. The feel of it is enough to push him to his own climax, and with a groan of pleasure he cums, realizing a moment too late that he came inside her instead of pulling out.

He holds her as they both come down from their shared high, her warm walls still clamped around his throbbing cock. After a long while, much longer than with any other woman, Gojo separates from her and they both get up from the bed.

They both dress in silence. He’s usually chatty at times like this, but his mind is elsewhere, still in those moments when he was inside her, when she said his name.

He glances over to find her back in her dress. She reaches up toward her mask, probably to remove it and wipe her eyes, but he stops her.

“Don’t take it off until you’re out of the room,” he says, though part of him wants to rip it off immediately.

She looks at him then, and gives a small, uncomfortable smile. “Of course, I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“This way is better for both of us,” he tells her, though he feels conflicted. He wants to ask her name, her real name, but that would defeat the purpose of the mask. Instead he says nothing as she gives a small bow and leaves the room.

Gojo flops across the bed and sighs, his thoughts still full of Cinderella. After a moment, he notices a sound coming from outside his room. Perhaps on the stairs?

Click, click, click.

Over and over. The sound calls to him. He stands up and crosses to his door, opening it slowly and listening.

Click, click, click.

What is that? It stops, then starts again but softer. He walks out and looks over the railing, down to the first floor. Cinderella is walking toward the door. The light glints off something on her feet, and he focuses on her shoes.

Are those… glass slippers?!

It can’t be!

Suddenly everything snaps into place. The familiar welts on her arms. The way she looked at him as if she knew him. The way she called him by his first name.

The way tears spilled from her eyes.

It’s her! The girl he’s been waiting for all these years!

He runs toward the stairs, shouting, “Wait!” but she’s already going through the door.

By the time he runs down the steps and flings the door open, she’s gone. He looks both directions on the street, but it’s dark, and there are still crowds of people moving about. She’s nowhere to be seen.

Cinderella has vanished into the night.

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