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She takes son to oral task for coming too soon.

Fairies are called 'Buttercup' or 'Peasblossom' or 'Cowslip'.Though in your case it might be 'Cowsarse' I suppose. Hurr, hurr!"

That's unfair, thought Debbie looking behind her, although the short skirt of her dress did make her bum look a bit big. She called herself Deborah because it seemed a lot more fun than 'Snowdrop'. Deborah, Debbie, Debs,all of those were fine but 'Snowdrop'? It wasn't her at all! It would have to do for the ogre, though. "It's Snowdrop. Deborah Snowdrop. Why don't you let me go?" She tried a winning smile at the single blood shot eye that was staring in at her.

"Hurr, hurr, because I don't want to," the ogre said. "What's the point in me catching you up in my little sack, putting you in that little cage and taking the risk of you heaving all that vodka all over it just to let you go again? Nah! That doesn't sound like the sort of idea even an ogre would go for, does it?"

Deborah thought about it. He was right of course. Even ogres weren't that dim. "If you let me go, I'll grant you a wish. I can grant wishes. How about that?"

"I dunno," said the ogre. "Most time wishes seem to turn out wrong. I don't really trust magic. Not since they started letting school kids do it. And that lot that live on that world with the turtle. They're just mad most of them. Naw! I'll stay away from wishes, thank you."

"Well there's other things that fairies are good at..." When all else failed, Deborah Snowdrop, knew that one of her flirtatious glances and a suggestive word was enough to divert elves, pixies and even, on a good night, trolls. Perhaps it would work on ogres too.

"We'll see." The ogre poked a finger through the bar of the cage. It was almost as wide around as Deborah's head. She backed away but the finger followed her pinning her to the back of the cage. She squealed. "Hurr," the ogre responded, moving his finger in a motion which might have been construed as tickling if it hadn't been so threatening "Hurr." The eye squinted in. "Who's a slutty little Snowdrop then?" he smirked.

Deborah, who realised that the ogre's finger stroking across the silk of her dress had left her nipples standing up like, well, like the warts on the ogre's nose, squealed again and put her hands up to cover her breasts.

The ogre chuckled, "Hurr! Not the sort of thing you had in mind? Never mind, I think you can stay anyway."

Deborah tried to think what she might do to escape. All she had was the few things in her handbag. She hit on a plan. She would get the fairy dust, throw it at the ogre's feet, that would lift him off the ground -- because that was what fairy dust did -- he'd drop the cage in shock and all she had to do was to flap her wings like nobody's business so that when the cage hit the floor and shattered she'd be flying free.


Well, not too perfect but as good as she could think of. She fumbled in her handbag and found the bottle.

"What are you doing in there," grunted the ogre peering into the cage.

"This!" said Deborah hurling the bottle to the floor.

It missed the ogre's feet but hit the floor anyway and shattered, showering its contents over the ogre's faithful dog as he sat by the fire trying to work out if it was worthwhile getting up now that a cinder was actually smouldering in his fur. To the dog's dismay it found itself floating above the ground at the height of the ogre's head. The hound yelped disconsolately as its legs paddled helplessly at empty air; the ogre laughed with gusto and Deborah shrank back in her cage disappointed at the failure of her plan.

"Oh dear me," the ogre said. "I can see what I've got to do with you, darling. Take your stockings off."

"What? No! You can't tell me to do that!"

"Yes I can darling, I'm a fucking ogre. We're not all jolly, home-loving souls like that smart arsed, bugger Shrek, you know. Some us are still down right nasty and I'm one of them. So get your fucking stockings off!"


"Just get them off.

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