"Hold her wrists tightly, Griselda, I want her in position for every one of these, and just at the moment our little Sinders' rump is a perfect target!"

"Just as you say, sister dear!" Griselda smiled sweetly, but without humour, and tightened her grip on the slim wrists of the attractive girl held face down over the dressing table stool in front of her. Although their victim's head was towards Griselda, she could see over her shoulders to where the plump arch of her bare buttocks swelled from beneath the curtain of tucked-up dress and slip, helplessly awaiting the assault of the supple malacca cane, which as a prelude lightly tapped the reluctant flesh. How Griselda wished that it was her turn to wield the cane, but fair was fair, and it was Euphoria's turn without question and watching was nearly as good. And anyway, she knew that another opportunity would occur soon enough, with a sulky, randy little slut like their step-sister there was usually excuse enough to punish her.

Euphoria lightly rubbed the wicked yellow rod across the cringing bottom cheeks before her, delighting in the cat and mouse of anticipation.

"So, sweet Sinders, you've been out pussy-catting again. Sneaking out at night to the village to find some lad willing to show of his manhood to Little Miss Modesty. Well, we told you before what would happen next time, and this is the next time, isn't it?

In gloating triumph she smiled across at her sister, before bending to adjust Sinders' knickers just a little lower across her stocking tops. No doubt they would be down around the little minx's ankles as soon as she started kicking those pretty legs of hers, but Euphoria had a proper sense of ritual, and liked to ensure that everything was in it's place at the start of a punishment; which was why Sinders' dress and petticoat were lifted and folded precisely in the small of her back, and not heaped any-old-how above her naked buttocks.

Satisfied, Euphoria raised the cane and expertly brought it down hard across the creamy white mounds of the bare bottom. There was an agreeable "THWACK!", and an agonised squeal from Sinders as the stroke bit home, raising a livid weal which almost immediately flushed an angry scarlet as the blood rushed to assuage the injured spot. Euphoria was pleased with Sinders' reaction. Clearly, there were going to be no false heroics on this occasion, she was obviously going to yell, plead and beg through every one of the dozen strokes she was going to impart. So much more satisfying. She waited patiently for the twisting flesh to calm itself, lightly tapped the cane across it's next target area, and then raised the cane once more......

Now unlike the 'other' story, these are not the ugly sisters, far from it, but they are a little older then their tarty teenage step-sister, and she is the one who always got spoilt, and received the lecherously admiring glances. They hated little Sinders' guts, and the feeling was certainly reciprocated, especially at this moment, as Euphoria's cane wreaked such havoc to Sinders' pouting, pampered rear end.

"Eight!!" Screamed that young lady, knowing from bitter experience that any failure to count would result in repeat strokes. "Oh! No more, Euphoria! Please! I am sure Daddy didn't mean for you to be so harsh!"

"Oh yes, Daddy did!" It was Griselda's mocking voice from above her tear-stained face. "Daddy asked us to give you a whacking that you would remember for quite a while. Being caught in the hay with a stable-hand was the last straw." - smiling to herself at her little joke - "You know how Daddy feels about us mixing with the peasants!

"But I was only being friendly - aaarghhh! Nine! Please! Not so hard!!" Wept the randy little sister. "Haven't I been punished enough?"

"Not for another three strokes you haven't!" Gloated Euphoria, the older of the two sisters by 12 months, and a natural blonde to Griselda's brunette locks. "And what is more, Daddy has forbidden you to go to the Masked Ball next month!"

This news brought a fresh wail of anguish from Sinders, which rose by a full three soprano octaves as the tenth landed on a particularly tender intersection with a previous stripe. Oh Christ! TEN! But the Prince is coming!!"

"He is, my poppet, his most certainly is, and we plan to entertain him ourselves. All night!"

"Oi! Bugger off! This is not a peep show!" Griselda remark was addressed towards the open bedroom door, where a young pageboy reluctantly scuttled off down the corridor clutching his trouser crotch with both hands. Griselda didn't appear too displeased though, considering the youth had been able to witness Sinders' naked discomfort for quite some time. Nevertheless she added 'Buttons' to her list of likely nether-targets.

"Bloody nerve!", snarled Griselda. "Servants nowadays!" She addressed herself to Euphoria. "Right, two more strokes to go. Make sure she really feels them!"

Sinders was lying face down on her bed, snivelling, and indulging in the doubtful pleasure of gently massaging a striped and ridged bottom well anointed with cold cream. Her thinnest shortie nightie pulled well up, because even it's gossamer touch felt like sandpaper against her welted flesh.

"Anything I can do?" asked the obnoxiously smirking Buttons leaning casually in the doorway. "Rub anything on? Squirt anything in?"

"Sod off, you little rat!" snapped Sinders. "It was you who squealed on me to Daddy!"

Buttons accepted the comment without rancour and strolled nonchalantly into her bedroom, pausing at her bedside to run an exploratory finger over Sinders' tramlines. She jerked away with a curse that no fairy-tale heroine should know, let alone use.

"That Euphoria is quite an artist" commented Buttons admiringly. "All laid on exactly where she intended. Do they sting?" He ducked as Sinders threw her bedside clock at him.

"You will find out soon enough, once Griselda get her hands on you for spying!"

"Sorry!" he paused thoughtfully. "Pity about your dad stopping you going to the ball though." He sniggered. "A bit of a howler getting caught with your knickers down just before it though. Still want to go to the bunfight?"

"Of course I want to go, stupid!" Snapped Sinders. "But a fat chance I've got with Pops locking up my wardrobe, and I don't even have a ticket!"

Buttons looked sly and tapped the side of his nose. "Anything is possible, my pretty. At a price. Ever heard of ticket touts?"

Sinders began to look interested and rolled onto her side, "And the dress?"

"My old Godfather - a fairy if ever there was one - does a nifty line in ball gowns. I take it money is no object? And, of course, the other?"

"Get stuffed!" sneered Sinders. "I am aiming to get the Prince into bed, I'm not wasting my precious pussy on you!"

"Oh! Charming!" exclaimed Buttons.

"No, Prince Hal, actually." said Sinders with a smirk.

The weeks leading up to the Ball passed uneventfully, if busily, and Sinders ill-treated bottom resumed it's former unblemished beauty under Button's tender ministrations. Daddy refused to relent on the Ball sanction, but true to his word Buttons was able to provide a perfectly fitting gown, and on the morning of the Great Day, an impressive gilt-edged ticket for the Ball.

"It's only a good forgery," he explained, "so mind how you go. Godfather says they are going to be particularly hot on security, what with the Prince coming. Anyway, you'll look the part with this gown on, and I have negotiated with your stable-hand to fix up a coach and four. I explained that he owed you."

"But what if Daddy or the step-sisters recognise me?"

"They won't. Under that mask, a different hair-do, and this new ball gown, they won't give you a second glance."

"I hope the Prince does," said Sinders anxiously.

"Oh him!" said Buttons contemptuously. "If your sisters haven't got their hooks into him. And anyway, if what I hear about him is true, your bottom......." But just then one of the Sisters called him and he had to run, remembering the tanning Griselda had given him the other week, and with his own thick leather belt too!

At nine o'clock that evening Sinders put on an Oscar-winning performance of tearful remorse as Papa and her two step-sisters - who looked divine - drove off to the Ball in the family coach.

Daddy had patted her arm, not unkindly. "I'm sorry you have to stay at home Sinders dear, but it is for your own good. You really have to learn that screwing the hired help is terribly bad form. How would it be if that peasant let it be known that my daughter doesn't have the family birthmark on her bum?"

"Worn off" muttered Sinders under her breath, while trying to look repentant. "I see what you mean Daddy-dearest, I'm sorry. I really will try to be more careful in the future."

Once she had 'tearfully' watched and waved as the family coach clip-clopped off down the drive and out of sight, she ran for her room, mopping her eyes as she went, unzipping her dress as she hurdled the stairs. Buttons had agreed to act as Lady's Maid, it was safer that way and it kept the youth drooling happily.

At ten that night, a smart but discreet coach appeared at the side door, driven personally by Button's Godfather, and Sinders - looking ravishing in an original creation - was silently handed in and driven off towards the festivities at the Castle. There was no denying it, she was stunningly beautiful, she told herself. How would the Prince be able to resist her charms, even with the two sisters simpering and drooling around him?

The Invitation Ticket passed muster at the gates, but as they drove up the long gravel drive Button's Godfather turned in his seat and hissed, "They'll be round for a closer look. Hide in the loo if you get a chance. It's a good fake, but it won't fool an expert. Now listen, I'll have the coach waiting outside at 12 o'clock sharp, and if you're not there, tough tittie, because I'll have to leave without you. I've got my late-night cab service to do. Right?"

The Castle Ballroom was a scene of glittering splendour. A swirling, whirling kaleidoscope of gorgeous dresses, formal wear and full dress military uniforms, as the dancers swayed and weaved to the lilting strains of a Strauss waltz. There was a discreet cough at Sinders' side as a uniformed flunky deferentially asked "Your invitation, Mam'selle?"

Sinders handed it over and was a little alarmed that it was kept. But then the man stood at the door to announce the arrival of Miss Yellow. In inventing a pseudonym for herself Sinders had thought it deliciously clever, but now, standing there with all eyes on her, she began to wonder if it wasn't too clever. Certainly she had attracted the attention of Prince Hal, as he peered between the mountainous swellings of the step-sister's bosoms.

His perusal of this fresh bit of crumpet was interrupted by an urgent tug at his sleeve. A plain-clothed security man urgently seeking his attention.

"I am afraid we must leave immediately, your Highness, the event has been infiltrated!" Waving the forged invitation, "we can't be sure how many more of them are here."

The Prince nodded towards the new tottie standing uncomfortably inside the main doorway, "But this divine creature has only just arrived, I can't leave now!"

"She is the one, Sire! We must leave now!" urged the security man, trying to usher his charge towards a discreet side-door.

"What?! Then find me a secure room and bring her to me. Immediately! She must be personally interrogated"

The security man rolled his eyes, knowing what that meant, but nodded to the Prince, "Yes Sire, but please, we must evacuate this room immediately".

In the meantime Sinders, unaware that she had been rumbled, was making the most of the free champagne, and looking for the Prince. At last her eyes caught up with him, moving in a most un-prince-like manner through the crowd. A strong figure in black velvet and wearing the obligatory Domino mask, as were all the guests. Sinders felt a rush of moisture invade her womanhood as she imagined running her dainty fingers through his chest hair.

She began to make her way towards him but she was forestalled, as a powdered footman approached her, saying "Excuse me, Madam, but you are wanted on the telephone.

So natural was the man's manner that she was out of the ballroom and had followed him halfway to an ante-chamber before it occurred to her that no-one knew she was there, and also that Alexander Graham Bell wasn't born yet. But by now it was too late, as she paused in her stride she felt each arm gripped firmly as she was quickly bundled forwards. Other hands whipped up the full skirts of her gown, throwing them over her head and effectively blindfolding and gagging her in their folds. Even as it happened she instinctively thought "Thank God these knickers and stocking are new, and my bum and legs are good!". And then she found herself swept off her feet and carried away.

She heard a door open and was carried into some room, then she was roughly set down on her feet, and as her petticoats and gown fell back down around her ankles she realised that she was held on each side by two beefy characters who had "bouncer" written all over them, while sitting at the opposite side of a heavy oak desk was the Prince!

He spoke, his voice educated and obviously used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question. "Alright! Who are you? Where are you from? Who else is working with you? Who are you working for?"

"Nno-one, I came alone. To see you, and to go to the Ball, because Daddy wouldn't let me!"

"Come on!" snapped the Prince, "You can do better than that. Vee haff vays off making you tork!"

"Oh, are you foreign?" quipped Sinders, mistakenly. For she suddenly found herself thrust none too gently, face down across the desk, her arms stretched and held firmly. She desperately tried to listen for tell-tale sounds, wondering where the Prince was. She heard his chair scrape as he rose, but where was he now? The Prince's voice startled her.

"I warned you, young lady, you can't say that I didn't!"

There was her answer! He's behind you!

A heavy metallic clinking sound and then a long swoosh, "let's see if a dose of my belt across your bare backside will loosen your tongue!"

And now she knew why he was behind her! Secretly Sinders was not averse. She needed to get to know the Prince intimately, and how more intimate than bent double with her most personal charms exposed to his gaze? Besides, she didn't object to the lick of leather around her nether regions, after what her rotten step-sisters often did to her it was a stimulating exercise. However, she had to go through the motions of outraged dignity.

"NO!" she squealed. Keep your hands off me!..Prince or no Prince it is shameful......." Unfortunately the latter half of her tirade was a muffled noise as her skirts were once again turned over her head, and smooth strong hands grasped the waistband of her knickers. She sucked air hard as her last vestige of modesty was rudely swept down her legs to her ankles, she had never been bared quite so efficiently, quite so quickly, and quite so manfully. In fact in other circumstances.........

"WHAPP!!" The first lash of his heavy belt whipped across her exposed moons.....

The prince waited for the expected agonised screech, but was surprised to hear what sounded remarkably like a satisfied sigh.

"WHAPP!! WHAPP!! WHAPP!!" He continued with extra vigour. He became ever more impressed as the rudely bared bottom began to weave sinuously as if mesmerised by a snake charmer's flute. Sinders let out a few little token yelps, but they were more by way of encouragement than anything to do with pain. Falling into rhythm with the swaying rump he timed the next strokes of his belt as it reached the end of each oscillation. "WHAPP!! ................ "WHAPP!!" ................... "WHAPP!!" ............

An urgent knocking on the door interrupted the Prince's pleasure, "You are needed to lead the next dance Sire!"

"Oh no I'm not!" Replied the Prince, eager to resume the challenge of the rump.

"Oh yes you are, Sire! It is The Prince's Gallop, your guests are all waiting."

"Damn", thought the Prince. Turning to his henchmen, "take this wench out to my coach and hold her there. I will continue with her interrogation later." And, refastening his belt, strode off down the hall towards the ballroom.

Sinders twisted and wriggled one last time, and finally freed her hands of the silken bonds which had held her secure until long after the Castle clock tower has struck midnight. As she had struggled to free herself she had been able hear carriages scrunching on the drive as the other guests left, silently cursing as she remembered the Godfather's warning.

Quickly she slipped the blindfold from her eyes and untied the bonds around her ankles. For quite sometime she had squirmed wetly on the floor of the Prince's coach, feeling her striped bottom throb warmly, and secretly revelling in the constriction of her limbs. But now her movements were urgent. As she slipped silently out of the door,and away from the Prince's henchmen, she knew that Papa would be home by now, and searching for her. And she still had a 6 mile hike to get back.

As Sinders scurried down the drive, she rounded a bend to find her carriage waiting restlessly out of sight. She dived gratefully inside, trying to ignore the berating she was getting from the Godfather. Words such as Damned Good Hiding seemed to be prevalent, but all she was thinking about was the immediacy of what lay ahead when her father caught up with her.

"I warned you, young lady, did I not? Said the Godfather, "What on earth kept you?"

"I got caught and the Prince was lashing my pumpkin with his belt!" panted Sinders. "Home James, and don't spare the white mice!"

"SINDERS!" The voice boomed, freezing her in her tracks, midway up the staircase with her shoes in her hands. "My study, miss, this instant!"

Sinders hung her head and trudged mournfully back down the gracefully curved stairway. Trying to ignore the tittering sisters who stood excitedly in the hall, and on through the heavy oak door in front of her. She tried to close the door behind her but the sisters heaved it back open and entered behind her.

"Oh, Griselda! I am looking forward to this. It is going to be a real scorcher!" Said Euphoria, her eyes twinkling. "First an evening with the most handsome, gropeable Prince Hal, and now a good thrashing for the minx Sinders, what could be better?"

Papa stood sternly in the centre of the room. His hands flexed a heavy rattan cane ominously. "Sinders? No! Don't even try to explain! Just get those skirts up and your drawers down, my girl! And then bend over my desk." His tone of his voice rebuked any argument before it began, Sinders resigned herself to her fate and set about the ritual humiliation of baring her pert bottom before her father.

"Euphoria! Griselda! You two can join her. I entrusted this girls behavioural correction to you, and you have failed miserably. Get your knickers off and bend over!"

The Sisters blanched, grimaced at each other, and then slowly complied. Both silently vowing to flay little Sinders alive as soon as the opportunity presented.

And so it came to pass, that when the Prince arrived at the house the next day, wanting to view all female buttocks between the ages of 16 and 26, they were not nearly as keen to display themselves as they normally might. As keen as the Sisters were to receive a good rogering from the Prince from behind, or any other direction for that matter, they were none too keen to disclose the heavily striped bottoms they both sported.

And when, shamefully bent bare-arsed before him, he unbuckled his belt to test how their respective rears weaved under his ministrations, they decided that this was one rogering they would cheerfully pass up.

"What about Sinders?" Griselda piped up in an attempt to get her rump off the hook, "Maybe that is where the little slut spent the evening after all!"

"Then fetch her to me." Demanded the Prince.

Euphoria handed a key to Buttons, "very well, unlock the slut's bedroom and fetch her here, the Prince wants to whip her arse. He seems to think he can recognise her that way."

And so when Sinders eventually found herself bent over the study desk again, with her skirts back up around her ears, arms held outstretched by the Sisters once more, bottom swaying seductively under the lash of the Prince's supple leather, she just knew she was going to live happily ever after . . . .