Strangeness and Charm, Part 1/3little_elfieJanuary 17 2012, 01:51:14 UTC
Strangeness and Charm, Part 1/3
The Minister’s eyes sweep over the young woman standing before him. Despite this outwardly cool appraisal, Claude Frollo is pleasantly surprised by this unexpected development - it has been many years since he last saw Cinderella and the girl has grown into quite a beauty in that time. Inwardly smirking, he takes particular note of her meagre possessions and appearance; his sister’s obvious attempts to undermine her young ward have backfired tremendously. The girl’s scuffed clogs cannot disguise those slim ankles and her shapeless dress fails to mask the gentle curve of hip and breast beneath.
Indeed, Cinderella’s beauty seems to shine through that threadbare rag, clear and piercing like a bolt of lightning behind his eyelids. His member stirs and he can feel an instinctive growl rising in the depths of his throat.
This feeling is vaguely disconcerting and Frollo grits his teeth, waiting for the flames to engulf him...he will not escape a second time...but no, this is not the same. The gypsy witch...oh, her name is forever in his heart, on his tongue, bittersweet and enticing, but she will not have him! She is dead, rotting in the bowels of the earth where she belongs - he was there, on the edge of the shallow pit when they lowered her into it. He allows himself to linger over those memories, savouring each one in equal measure; he can see her there, writhing in his arms and bucking against him, fighting even as her flesh begins to yield and raw sobs rack her dusky shoulders...she mounts the gallows, her eyes narrowed and head held high...she is broken, slumped in the arms of the hangman, the grey rope still knotted around her lovely neck...Esmeralda!
Cinderella.
Such dark thoughts are vanquished for the moment. Frollo watches her, ignoring the colourful spots dancing before his aching eyes. Her lips are soft and pliant as she smiles and bows her head in shy deference.
Provincial girl, pretty as a peach and ripe for plucking...
Even as a child, unassuming and grief-stricken in the wake of her father’s death, Cinderella had been pleasing to look at...and now...well, he could understand Jeanne’s sudden desire to be rid of this unwanted stepchild. After all, she had the prospects of her own unsightly daughters to consider...no, it would not do to have the wench eclipse her girls...
“Sir, I...I really don’t know how to thank you for taking me in. I don’t have much to offer but...well, I am no stranger to hard work and I promise to earn my keep.”
Suddenly light-headed, as though he has stared into the glare of the sun for too long, he blinks and turns away, dismissing her softly-spoken words of gratitude with a wave of his hand.
“Rest assured, my dear girl, I have no intention of running you into the ground with chores and errands. In this household, you are not a scullery maid. You are my niece.”
“Oh, but...”
Frollo stays her protests with a smile. It is a familiar smile, calculated and predatory, but Cinderella’s knees tremble beneath her skirt at the sight of it. The years of abuse and drudgery she has suffered, the tragic loss of her father...it all seems to fade away for a brief moment; here is a kind man and he is reaching out, promising to shelter and protect her.
Sinking to her knees beside Frollo’s chair, she reaches out to press her coral-pink mouth to his cold cheek.
“Thank you, uncle.”
The Minister’s nails bite into the palm of his hand, exquisite pain countering the pleasure of her touch. His fingers flex convulsively in his lap, groin tightening as a delicate flush blossoms over the girl’s pale cheeks. She bows her head, veiling her face behind a luxurious tumble of strawberry blond curls.
Curls, yes...ebony curls and bronzed skin...eyes as bright and green as precious jade...
Cock pulsing, he catches his lower lip between his teeth and, with a gentle and tentative hand, sweeps the hair from the girl's eyes.
Blue eyes.
Yes, blue and tranquil and glistening with sweet tears...nothing like the other one...no...
Re: Strangeness and Charm, Part 1/3afterandalasiaJanuary 17 2012, 18:31:14 UTC
Asashdg I just made this stupid squeaky noise of GLEE because omg this is AMAZING and SO FAST. I love it to pieces already, being from Frollo's point of view as he receives Cinderella. Arghhh~
Strangeness and Charm, Part 2/3little_elfieJanuary 27 2012, 00:33:43 UTC
Strangeness and Charm, Part 2/3
A subtle game of cat and mouse ensues. Frollo plays his part with relish; the benevolent uncle, bestowing lavish gifts and affection in equal measure. Cinderella, the eternal ingénue, suspects nothing. Blinded by this sudden reversal in fortune, she knows nothing of the Minister's intentions, of the endless nights he spends upon his knees, in thrall to the fireplace and what - who - he sees there...
Esmeralda, Cinderella. His women. They are one in the man's twisted subconscious...the heathen wench still haunts him, just as he now haunts his young waif's steps. Delightful child, she perches upon his lap and sings, unaware of the predator stirring, roaring to violent life at the promise of innocent flesh. He trembles beneath her, suddenly afraid - she knows, she must know...but still she sings on, like a caged bird...
Yes, such a pretty caged bird, how he longs to feel her fragile heart flutter in his clutches!
The songs she favours are those he detests most - foolish, idealistic, romantic - but he suffers them gladly and is duly rewarded with chaste endearments.
"Uncle, dearest!"
Cinderella's words send an incestuous thrill through the Minister and it is all he can do not to give into that perverse craving, to throw her to the ground and...Esmeralda in the dungeon, naked flesh against cold stone... so tight and wet around him...oh Lord, her sweet cunny!
Frollo casts the memory aside, focusing on Cinderella's porcelain skin and the gentle flush of her cheeks - pure and tractable, she is a true paragon of the gentle sex. Such a pale beauty, luminous and startling against the grime and squalor of the city, will not go unnoticed forever. The Minister is no fool - he knows it won’t be long until some young buck steals her away from him. Soon, he must take her soon, make her his own...
Strangness and Charm, Part 3/3little_elfieFebruary 9 2012, 23:47:29 UTC
Strangeness and Charm, Part 3/3
The fates are often inscrutable in their dealings with humanity; Claude Frollo is grateful for this, for the casual cruelty of his God. He smirks, silently praising the unknown forces that have driven Cinderella to seek him out in the early hours of the morning.
She reclines at his feet before the fireplace, her melancholy expression illuminated by the dancing flames. The anniversary of her beloved father's death looms on the horizon, curbing her natural buoyancy.
Poor little rabbit, she has no idea how exciting her distress is to the hungry fox. Such a potent aphrodisiac...
The thoughts pleases the Minister and he reaches out to stroke Cinderella's fair curls, twisting a stray tendril around his finger as she sighs and rests her head against his knee.
"I would do anything in my power to take away your pain, my dear."
Frollo is taken aback by how sincere he sounds - perhaps a small part of him even believes the sentiment. He is, after all, very fond of his pretty niece, who is smiling sadly as she murmurs her thanks and presses a chaste kiss to his hand. His cock throbs insistently, demanding attention, and he smirks and tightens his grip on her shoulder.
"Perhaps there is something I can do..."
His fingertips trace the smooth skin of her throat, chasing her pulse as it quivers like a wounded pheasant. Soon his hands are full with the softness of her white breasts and he squeezes gently, groaning as her nipples harden and pucker...then lower...and still lower...a crisp golden nest between her legs and - Mea Culpa! - that tight velvet pussy begging to be licked and sucked...
x X x
"In my mouth?"
“Yes. Don't you trust me?”
Cinderella nods reluctantly, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks as he presses against her, “Yes uncle but...oh, I just couldn't-”
“Just close your eyes, Cinderella,” Frollo murmurs, brushing a fingertip over her lips, “Close your eyes and open your mouth. That's a good girl...”
x X x
"Will it hurt?"
The Minister draws back, surprised by the question and the sudden gleam of Cinderella's eyes beneath their pale lashes.
Ah, of course. So, my rosy farm-girl is not so naive after all...
She must have seen the livestock being bred at some point...dogs or horses fucking in the courtyard below her window, perhaps. Frollo imagines the scene with relish; pretty little Cinders, flushing with shame and arousal, reaching beneath her skirts to touch herself as the stallion approaches the mare...
"Uncle?"
He smiles down at her, struggling to keep the lust from his eyes as she clings to him, her lovely face clouded by apprehension, fear and doubt.
"Yes, I'm afraid it will, my dear girl...but only for a little while. I will be gentle with you."
"Promise?" Watching him closely, her eyes bright in the shadows of the chamber, she looks like a little girl again. Afraid and distrustful...
"I give you my word," Frollo smirks as an inspired scheme suddenly materialises within his devious mind. He stoops forward to press his lips against the shell of her ears, whispering in his most persuasive pervasive voice, "Your father would want this, Cinderella...he would want you to give yourself to a man who truly cares for you. Yes?"
Cinderella gnaws at her lower lip in confusion, allowing him to push her modest nightgown up around her waist and push her against the wall. Her bare legs encircle his waist and she exhales sharply as he begins to press his manhood into her tight opening; she closes her eyes, remembering how it had grown in her hands, how she had struggled to take it in her mouth...No! It's too big!
Frollo can feel her trembling in his arms and, allowing himself a tender whim, leans forwards to kiss her damp brow; she smiles uncertainly, slightly reassured by this disingenuous gesture. He holds her gaze for a long moment and then, with a sudden thrust of his sharp hips, he is sliding slicing into her, like a silver dagger splitting a sweet, downy peach.
Re: Strangness and Charm, Part 3/3little_elfieFebruary 13 2012, 07:16:24 UTC
Hnnng this is so good, I can't even articulate it. It's just... perfect. Frollo is perfect, Cinderella is perfect, this whole setup is ingenius. His thoughts and the way he grooms her is so Frollo. Thank you for this fic!
Re: Strangness and Charm, Part 3/3afterandalasiaFebruary 14 2012, 22:51:52 UTC
Damnnnnn, I don't even know how I managed to miss the second half of this for so long. This is so perfect, the parts so wonderfully balanced, deliciously wrong. Thank you so much for writing this!
The Minister’s eyes sweep over the young woman standing before him. Despite this outwardly cool appraisal, Claude Frollo is pleasantly surprised by this unexpected development - it has been many years since he last saw Cinderella and the girl has grown into quite a beauty in that time. Inwardly smirking, he takes particular note of her meagre possessions and appearance; his sister’s obvious attempts to undermine her young ward have backfired tremendously. The girl’s scuffed clogs cannot disguise those slim ankles and her shapeless dress fails to mask the gentle curve of hip and breast beneath.
Indeed, Cinderella’s beauty seems to shine through that threadbare rag, clear and piercing like a bolt of lightning behind his eyelids. His member stirs and he can feel an instinctive growl rising in the depths of his throat.
This feeling is vaguely disconcerting and Frollo grits his teeth, waiting for the flames to engulf him...he will not escape a second time...but no, this is not the same. The gypsy witch...oh, her name is forever in his heart, on his tongue, bittersweet and enticing, but she will not have him! She is dead, rotting in the bowels of the earth where she belongs - he was there, on the edge of the shallow pit when they lowered her into it. He allows himself to linger over those memories, savouring each one in equal measure; he can see her there, writhing in his arms and bucking against him, fighting even as her flesh begins to yield and raw sobs rack her dusky shoulders...she mounts the gallows, her eyes narrowed and head held high...she is broken, slumped in the arms of the hangman, the grey rope still knotted around her lovely neck...Esmeralda!
Cinderella.
Such dark thoughts are vanquished for the moment. Frollo watches her, ignoring the colourful spots dancing before his aching eyes. Her lips are soft and pliant as she smiles and bows her head in shy deference.
Provincial girl, pretty as a peach and ripe for plucking...
Even as a child, unassuming and grief-stricken in the wake of her father’s death, Cinderella had been pleasing to look at...and now...well, he could understand Jeanne’s sudden desire to be rid of this unwanted stepchild. After all, she had the prospects of her own unsightly daughters to consider...no, it would not do to have the wench eclipse her girls...
“Sir, I...I really don’t know how to thank you for taking me in. I don’t have much to offer but...well, I am no stranger to hard work and I promise to earn my keep.”
Suddenly light-headed, as though he has stared into the glare of the sun for too long, he blinks and turns away, dismissing her softly-spoken words of gratitude with a wave of his hand.
“Rest assured, my dear girl, I have no intention of running you into the ground with chores and errands. In this household, you are not a scullery maid. You are my niece.”
“Oh, but...”
Frollo stays her protests with a smile. It is a familiar smile, calculated and predatory, but Cinderella’s knees tremble beneath her skirt at the sight of it. The years of abuse and drudgery she has suffered, the tragic loss of her father...it all seems to fade away for a brief moment; here is a kind man and he is reaching out, promising to shelter and protect her.
Sinking to her knees beside Frollo’s chair, she reaches out to press her coral-pink mouth to his cold cheek.
“Thank you, uncle.”
The Minister’s nails bite into the palm of his hand, exquisite pain countering the pleasure of her touch. His fingers flex convulsively in his lap, groin tightening as a delicate flush blossoms over the girl’s pale cheeks. She bows her head, veiling her face behind a luxurious tumble of strawberry blond curls.
Curls, yes...ebony curls and bronzed skin...eyes as bright and green as precious jade...
Cock pulsing, he catches his lower lip between his teeth and, with a gentle and tentative hand, sweeps the hair from the girl's eyes.
Blue eyes.
Yes, blue and tranquil and glistening with sweet tears...nothing like the other one...no...
This is different.
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A subtle game of cat and mouse ensues. Frollo plays his part with relish; the benevolent uncle, bestowing lavish gifts and affection in equal measure. Cinderella, the eternal ingénue, suspects nothing. Blinded by this sudden reversal in fortune, she knows nothing of the Minister's intentions, of the endless nights he spends upon his knees, in thrall to the fireplace and what - who - he sees there...
Esmeralda, Cinderella. His women. They are one in the man's twisted subconscious...the heathen wench still haunts him, just as he now haunts his young waif's steps. Delightful child, she perches upon his lap and sings, unaware of the predator stirring, roaring to violent life at the promise of innocent flesh. He trembles beneath her, suddenly afraid - she knows, she must know...but still she sings on, like a caged bird...
Yes, such a pretty caged bird, how he longs to feel her fragile heart flutter in his clutches!
The songs she favours are those he detests most - foolish, idealistic, romantic - but he suffers them gladly and is duly rewarded with chaste endearments.
"Uncle, dearest!"
Cinderella's words send an incestuous thrill through the Minister and it is all he can do not to give into that perverse craving, to throw her to the ground and...Esmeralda in the dungeon, naked flesh against cold stone... so tight and wet around him...oh Lord, her sweet cunny!
Frollo casts the memory aside, focusing on Cinderella's porcelain skin and the gentle flush of her cheeks - pure and tractable, she is a true paragon of the gentle sex. Such a pale beauty, luminous and startling against the grime and squalor of the city, will not go unnoticed forever. The Minister is no fool - he knows it won’t be long until some young buck steals her away from him. Soon, he must take her soon, make her his own...
It must be tonight.
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The fates are often inscrutable in their dealings with humanity; Claude Frollo is grateful for this, for the casual cruelty of his God. He smirks, silently praising the unknown forces that have driven Cinderella to seek him out in the early hours of the morning.
She reclines at his feet before the fireplace, her melancholy expression illuminated by the dancing flames. The anniversary of her beloved father's death looms on the horizon, curbing her natural buoyancy.
Poor little rabbit, she has no idea how exciting her distress is to the hungry fox. Such a potent aphrodisiac...
The thoughts pleases the Minister and he reaches out to stroke Cinderella's fair curls, twisting a stray tendril around his finger as she sighs and rests her head against his knee.
"I would do anything in my power to take away your pain, my dear."
Frollo is taken aback by how sincere he sounds - perhaps a small part of him even believes the sentiment. He is, after all, very fond of his pretty niece, who is smiling sadly as she murmurs her thanks and presses a chaste kiss to his hand. His cock throbs insistently, demanding attention, and he smirks and tightens his grip on her shoulder.
"Perhaps there is something I can do..."
His fingertips trace the smooth skin of her throat, chasing her pulse as it quivers like a wounded pheasant. Soon his hands are full with the softness of her white breasts and he squeezes gently, groaning as her nipples harden and pucker...then lower...and still lower...a crisp golden nest between her legs and - Mea Culpa! - that tight velvet pussy begging to be licked and sucked...
x X x
"In my mouth?"
“Yes. Don't you trust me?”
Cinderella nods reluctantly, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks as he presses against her, “Yes uncle but...oh, I just couldn't-”
“Just close your eyes, Cinderella,” Frollo murmurs, brushing a fingertip over her lips, “Close your eyes and open your mouth. That's a good girl...”
x X x
"Will it hurt?"
The Minister draws back, surprised by the question and the sudden gleam of Cinderella's eyes beneath their pale lashes.
Ah, of course. So, my rosy farm-girl is not so naive after all...
She must have seen the livestock being bred at some point...dogs or horses fucking in the courtyard below her window, perhaps. Frollo imagines the scene with relish; pretty little Cinders, flushing with shame and arousal, reaching beneath her skirts to touch herself as the stallion approaches the mare...
"Uncle?"
He smiles down at her, struggling to keep the lust from his eyes as she clings to him, her lovely face clouded by apprehension, fear and doubt.
"Yes, I'm afraid it will, my dear girl...but only for a little while. I will be gentle with you."
"Promise?" Watching him closely, her eyes bright in the shadows of the chamber, she looks like a little girl again. Afraid and distrustful...
"I give you my word," Frollo smirks as an inspired scheme suddenly materialises within his devious mind. He stoops forward to press his lips against the shell of her ears, whispering in his most persuasive pervasive voice, "Your father would want this, Cinderella...he would want you to give yourself to a man who truly cares for you. Yes?"
Cinderella gnaws at her lower lip in confusion, allowing him to push her modest nightgown up around her waist and push her against the wall. Her bare legs encircle his waist and she exhales sharply as he begins to press his manhood into her tight opening; she closes her eyes, remembering how it had grown in her hands, how she had struggled to take it in her mouth...No! It's too big!
Frollo can feel her trembling in his arms and, allowing himself a tender whim, leans forwards to kiss her damp brow; she smiles uncertainly, slightly reassured by this disingenuous gesture. He holds her gaze for a long moment and then, with a sudden thrust of his sharp hips, he is sliding slicing into her, like a silver dagger splitting a sweet, downy peach.
Oh, Maria! Esmeralda!
"Cinderella!"
Mine.
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