Aithorin

For a moment, all you can do is stare after him in stunned silence, wondering if the mountain cold somehow scrambled your head, because, surely, you’re seeing things. Arthur couldn’t possibly be walking away from you. Yet as his figure continues to shrink on the horizon, threatening to disappear entirely as he makes his way toward his horse, shock is quickly replaced by acute indignation with the realization that the damn bastard is, indeed, walking away from you. 

Well, he has another thing coming if he thinks you’ll just let him. 

You grit your teeth as you stomp after him, irritation flaring in your veins. Insufferable, obstinate lout. Who the hell does he think he is, brushing you off like that? With each forceful step, your anger burns hotter, brighter, near blinding you completely, as Arthur’s form comes back into focus. 

“This is a damn good lead, and you know it, Arthur!” You explode from behind him, shorter legs having to work double time to keep up with his own, “The house has been empty for days, and folks in town say the family won’t be back for at least another week! The money’s practically begging to be stolen! So, why the hell won’t you hear me out on this!?”

Arthur abruptly stops, so sudden in his movement that you nearly stumble into him. Surprise renders you ignorant of the tension in his body, too focused on maintaining your own balance to notice the tight set of his back, taut muscles thrumming in agitation. 

But then, he turns, and it’s impossible to miss. It’s only a small shift, a mere tilt of the head, yet you jerk upright, pierced by the steel glint of his eye shining brilliantly, dangerously, amidst the shadows steeped along his face. 

“I won’t tell you again,” Arthur warns in a low drawl, “You ain’t robbing that house, so drop it already.”

He starts toward his horse again, but you’re quick to block his path, skidding around in front of him.

“Not until you tell me why!” You demand, scowling up at him with crossed arms. 

“Don’t play dumb. You know why.” 

With a scoff, he pushes past you to close what is left of the short distance to his horse, and you follow behind, unwilling to let this go. You stand next to him, watching, waiting for him to turn, to fully acknowledge you for once, but he never does, too busy fiddling with his goddamn horse. 

“There’s a train passin’ through here in two days time,” Arthur says, enunciating the last bit with a grunt as he tugs harshly on the tie straps of his saddle, cinching it tight. “And me ‘n some of the others are gonna rob it. There ain’t nobody to go wit’chu.”

“I’ll go by myself then!” You snap, seething in frustration, “We need the money, Arthur. You know we do! Or, have you forgotten that everything we have is buried in a ditch somewhere back in Blackwater?!”

At that, Arthur whips around, his horse forgotten, and with a snarl set in his face, he stalks toward you, narrowed eyes ablaze with fury. The sight lights a crackle of instinctive fear in your belly, and you stumble back, spurs striking the ground in a stammered staccato, only to hit something rough and sturdy: a hitching post. By the time you realize, it’s too late. Arthur’s there, caging you in with his body. 

He leans in close, mere inches away from your face.

“How about you let me worry about the money, and you worry about learnin’ how to follow orders, because I’ve told you one too many times already,” Arthur says, “You ain’t robbing that goddamn house. Do you hear me?”

Overwhelmed, your mouth opens wordlessly, an impulsive acquiescence on the tip of your tongue; however, your dignity bites it back. He’s the one being unreasonable, not you, and you’ll be damned before you let him have the last word. 

Fueled with fiery conviction, you purse your lips, refusing to answer. 

Arthur notes the defiance in your stature, vibrant as ever, but he doesn’t overlook it so easily this time. His hand shoots out, snatching your face and wrenching it upward to look him in the eye.

“I said, do you hear me, woman?!” He bellows.

Heat blooms across your face, your anger twisting with the sour sting of humiliation, as his exclamation draws more than a few astonished looks across camp, and beneath their penetrating stares, you capitulate, mumbling a petulant yes through gritted teeth.

Arthur studies you for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing with distrust, but evidently, he’s placated by something he sees as he relaxes, giving a firm nod of satisfaction.

“Good.” He says, taking a step back. 

Striding back to his horse, he swings into the saddle with one fluid motion and fixes you with one final glare from atop it.

“Now stay here, and do as you’re goddamned told!”

With that, he pivots his horse with a click of the tongue, steering his mount toward the edge of camp where a few others have congregated to wait for him. You watch as Arthur joins them, taking the lead, and a chorus of horse whinnies echo back to you as they ride off into the wind, going who knows where. And as Arthur disappears from view, the judgment of camp soon becomes visceral. Tilly subtly eyes you from where she tends to the washing. Kieran gives you a furtive glance over the horse he’s brushing. Even Uncle pauses his day-drinking to stare at you while little Jack none too quietly questions, “Why was Uncle Arthur so mad, Mama?” Though Abigail is quick to shush him and ferry him along, sending an apologetic glance your way, the damage is done. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, a surge of embarrassment and anger coursing through you.

Damn him! Who the hell does Arthur think he is, ordering you around like that? Treating you like a child? You can take care of yourself, and you most certainly don’t need him. Hell, you’d probably be able to rob the house and be back before them. 

You stop short as that thought sinks in. You could be back before them. The house is only about a half day’s ride away. If you left now, you’d be back by tomorrow night, a full day before they’re due to return. 

The decision is made before you can think otherwise. Perhaps it’s a foolish one, driven only by a petty need to prove him wrong, but that doesn’t stop you from slinking over to your own horse and disappearing out of camp without a single trace.

After all, what Arthur doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

________

Try as you might, you can’t wipe the giddy grin off your face as you ride into camp late the next evening. Everything had gone according to plan, just like you’d said it would...well, mostly. Sure, the job hadn’t been quite as easy as you’d expected (news traveled fast and you weren’t the only one who’d had the bright idea to rob the place), but you managed to take care of the competition and snag a hefty three hundred dollars, all without a single scratch. And if that wasn't something to be damned proud of, then you don’t know what was. 

Yet as you approach your usual hitching post, your smile falters, quickly dying off, for illuminated by the light of a stray lantern stands none other than Arthur’s horse. The very horse that isn’t supposed to be here. 

Anxiety seizes you hard and quick. What the hell is Arthur doing back so soon? He’d specifically said a few days, not one. You’re sure of it. And yet, somehow, he’s here now, perfectly positioned to catch you red-handed. 

Perhaps he already has.

Your hands tighten around the reins of your horse, heart racing as you consider the possibility. No doubt Arthur’s already noticed your absence. He did, after all, hitch his horse right next to where yours should have been. But, was your absence alone enough to tip him off? People are in and out of camp all day, all the time. Surely, he wouldn’t think anything of it.

But what if he did?

You swallow thickly, dread pooling in your stomach. God, you’re dead if Arthur knows. You’d already driven him to fury with the mere suggestion of the robbery. If Arthur finds out you not only followed through but, more than that, blatantly disobeyed him…well, suffice to say, you’d sooner take your chances with a dozen dirty O’Driscoll’s than face him.  

You shudder before shaking the thought away. It won’t come to that. Arthur couldn’t possibly have been back long enough to have any true suspicions. Big jobs always bled late into the night, carried out as they were under the cover of darkness. At most, he’d been back an hour, maybe two. And while certainly not ideal, the timeframe was, blessedly, small enough to neither confirm nor deny any potential misgivings. 

That is, if he even had any. Considering the late hour, Arthur was probably too tired to notice much of anything at all upon his return. He’d no doubt gone straight to bed, bone weary from the exertion of a lengthy job, meaning you were, in all likelihood, safe despite his proximity. So long as you could sneak back to your tent unnoticed, everything should—would—be fine. 

Right?

As you slide down off your horse though, you can’t quite shake the feeling that you’ve already been caught. The fear gnaws at you, twisting your insides, while a voice, your better judgment perhaps, urges you to flee, and with each step you take toward camp, you’re more inclined to listen. 

The whisper of the wind, the rustle of the brush, the chirp of the animals - it all transforms into a distorted apparition of Arthur. It’s his breath that teases the back of your neck. His footsteps that shuffle amongst the trees. His laugh that rings in your ear. You sense him everywhere and nowhere all at once, paranoia turning the normally quick jaunt back to your tent into an absurdly long, agonizing trek, full of anxious starts and stops as you jump at every sound. 

It’s only as you venture into the heart of camp that the tension begins to lift, for it soon becomes clear that everyone is either asleep or too drunk to notice you at all. And in the stillness, protected by the warm light of the fire, caution gradually turns to confidence. It begins in your back, the tight set of your shoulders falling as they slowly ease back into their natural state. Then, your gaze settles, eyes no longer darting wildly in search of Arthur’s prowling form. Remaining fixed ahead, they instead search for your tent, and upon spotting it, meek, tiptoed steps lengthen into effortless strides, carrying you there in no time at all. 

As you approach the entrance of your tent, you resist the urge to break into an all-out run, the promise of safety so near sending one final wave of anxiety coursing through you. You were so close, too close to risk it all now by causing a racket and waking up half the camp. Waking him. Because, surely, Arthur had to be asleep. You’d seen no sign of him at all.

Well, there was one way to be certain.

You glance behind you to spy Arthur’s wagon across the way, the majority of it obscured by a well-placed tree. All it would take is one look and your fears could finally be put to rest. One teeny, tiny look. What harm could it do? 

You turn and take a step forward only to stop short. Unless, of course…this is exactly what Arthur wants. Perhaps he’s waiting, just out of sight, for you to stumble blindly, stupidly into his grasp, all of your own accord. You wouldn’t put it past him.

Then again… Arthur isn’t exactly known for his patience. He’s a man of action, someone who prefers to strike while the iron is hot. There’s no way he’d sit idly by if he knew. The nerves were just getting to your head, that’s all. They had to be. 

You approach the tree, placing one hand against its rough bark. Then, taking a deep breath, you peer around the edge to survey Arthur’s wagon. It stands blessedly still, the coverings drawn and dark, blending seamlessly into the night. 

He’s asleep. You’ve done it. You’ve actually managed to pull one over on Arthur. 

A loud laugh of disbelief bursts free before you can think twice, exploding into the air and sending a bolt of panic racing through you. A few feet away, Swanson’s snores stutter at the noise, and you tense, holding your breath in anticipation. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. For a few agonizing moments, he teeters on the edge of consciousness, mumbling nonsense, but then, right when it seems like he’ll be pulled into the waking world, he rolls over, drifting back to sleep peacefully. 

You breathe a long sigh of relief.

Unwilling to test your luck any further tonight (god knows you’ve surely used the last of it), you back away toward your tent, eyes sweeping across camp one last time in search of anyone else you might have disturbed. Only when you’re ensconced within, when the entrance flap has fallen and sealed safely you inside, does your vigilance cease, taking the worry you’ve been carrying ever since spotting that damn horse with it. And in its absence, all your earlier giddiness returns, a large grin breaking out across your face, so big you couldn’t bite it back even if you tried. 

That is, until you hear a match strike behind you.  

You freeze, blood turning to ice in your veins. No no no no no no. It couldn’t possibly be— Turning in quiet horror, you find Arthur resting against your cot, arms draped across bent knees, one hand holding a now lit cigarette. His hat hangs impossibly low, his emotions shrouded beneath it. Not a word, not a look, not even a breath is thrown in your direction. 

His silence only serves to unnerve you more.

This isn’t right. The Arthur you know would’ve already torn you a new one, so why is he just…sitting there? You swallow thickly, sweaty palms curling into your skirts. Panicking now would only cost you the game. Ignorance, however, just might save it.

“Back already, Arthur?” You ask, trying desperately to mask the tremble in your voice, “I-I thought you said the job would take a few days.”

Your address does little to rouse him. The silence lingers, leaving you to squirm beneath its weight. Arthur, on the other hand, seems to revel in it. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, releasing the smoke on a deep sigh before allowing the fumes to settle in the air. 

“Train was runnin’ ahead of schedule,” He says, voice gravelly as he talks around the cigarette, “so we had a last minute change in plans and pushed everything forward.”

He takes another puff, pinching the end between his thumb and forefinger as he pulls it from his mouth. 

“I came back to camp, expecting to find ya here waitin’ to welcome me. Come to find out you haven’t been seen all day. Y’wanna tell me what that’s about?” 

At long last, he raises his head, dark eyes locking with your own, and you stiffen beneath their intensity, suddenly wishing he’d never lifted them from the ground at all. He’s looking at you as though…as though he knows. As if he’s…waiting. And beneath his scorching gaze, a confession bubbles up, hanging on the tip of your tongue above a desperate plea for mercy—

“Hunting!” The lie springs forward before you can stop it, yet you, nevertheless, quickly latch onto it. Your self-preservation, it seems, runs farther than the depths of Arthur’s stare. “I-I was hunting.”

Unable to stand the burn of his gaze, your own slides down to settle on a spot just beyond his shoulder. 

“You-you see, Pearson used the last of the meat in yesterday’s stew, and with you and Charles gone, there was no one here to hunt. So…I-I took it upon myself and set out early this morning. Those critters were so damn fast though. I didn’t even realize how late it was until the sun was going down, and by then, I’d chased them halfway across the Heartlands. I-I didn’t mean to be gone so long, I promise.” 

Arthur gives a noncommittal hum, bowing his head low. And in the silence, confusion creeps in. Is-is that it then? Did he buy it? You take a hesitant step forward, then another, and then one more, overwhelmed by curiosity, and soon enough, you’re reaching out a hand, close enough to touch—

Faster than you can react, Arthur’s hand shoots out, snatching the satchel at your side, and with a deft flick of the finger, he opens it to find the proof of your sin: the wad of bills from the robbery. 

Shit!

“Well, well, well,” Arthur says, lips turning upward into a mocking sneer, “Seems you’re nothing but a goddamn liar!”

He rises to his full height, pure, unadulterated fury pouring from every inch of his body. Horrified, you stumble back, desperate to save yourself, but it’s too late. 

“Now, all I asked was that you stay put and listen to me!” He snarls, eyes blazing as he stalks toward you. “How hard can it be to follow a simple pair of instructions!?”

“I-I–” You stutter.

“But more than that, you lied to me!” Arthur roars, continuing as though you hadn’t even spoken. “I even gave you the chance to fess up, but you continued to act like a damn fool.”

He hurls the word fool with a venom so potent you can’t help but shrink away from it. Is that…is that truly what he sees when he looks at you? A fool? Well, you suppose it shouldn’t surprise you. Ever since that mess back in Blackwater, Arthur had hardly let you out of his sight, forever insisting that it was in everyone’s best interest to lay low at camp. Although, tellingly, he never spared the breath to lecture anyone but you.

The truth is, Arthur doesn’t trust you.

It bothers you more than you care to admit. You see how he treats the other girls, the way he lavishes them with praise when they manage to snag something off some sorry sod. Just once, you want him to look at you the same, eyes shining with pride after a job well done, easy praise in the form of a murmured good girl falling from his tongue on a low, shiver-inducing drawl. This was supposed to have been your chance. Your one brilliant shot to finally convince him of your worth. Now, in retrospect, it was a foolish thought. Arthur would never look at you that way, or any way, really. You were nothing but another silly, stupid girl in his eyes, and that’s all you ever would be. 

You bow your head in dejected shame, all the will to fight now gone. 

“I-I’m sorry,” You whisper.

By now, Arthur stands in front of you, chest heaving as the anger courses through his body thick and heavy. A beat of silence fills the air, one, two, three seconds, and for a moment, as he looks upon your sullen form, something flickers in his eyes, perhaps a twinge of mercy. But then, it vanishes, gone so quick it’s questionable if it even existed at all. 

“Yeah,” He says, voice a low rumble, “You will be.” 

Then, without hardly missing a beat—

“Get up on the bed. Face down.”

You jolt at the sudden command. Get up…on the bed? The words, so simple that even an idiot like MacGuire couldn’t possibly misconstrue them, manage to utterly confound you. 

So much so, in fact, that you fail to notice the slow darkening of Arthur’s features, his patience wearing thinner with each passing second.

Until, finally, it snaps.

“Now!” 

The guttural boom of his voice cracks along the length of your spine with whiplike precision, sending you stumbling forward in hurried, blind obeisance. You’re at the foot of your cot before you can blink. And yet still, you hesitate, unable to completely follow through.

You swallow thickly, glancing behind you to look at Arthur where his eyes, little more than murky, black pools in the dim light, bore into you, utterly unfeeling.

Waiting.

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

His final warning, dripping with dangerous promise, pulls at something deep in your belly, stirring a subtle warmth that is engulfed all too quickly by an onslaught of dread. This time, you don’t need to be told twice. The undisguised threat in his voice leaves no room for any more squirming attempts to weasel your way out of…whatever he has in mind. And so, despite the heaviness of your limbs, you crawl into the cot, settling face down, just as he asked, on your hands and knees.

In the darkness, blind to anything other than the faded cloth of your thin blanket, his presence rises to fill the entire room, oppressive. 

Clink. Clink. Clink.

With each heavy footfall, your heart beats in tandem, staggering against your chest. He’s everywhere. He’s nowhere. 

Until suddenly—

You jolt, flinching away, as Arthur slots himself behind you, yet easy hands quickly grab hold of your hips to steady you in place. 

“Shh. Shh. Shh. Easy there. There’s no need to be scared now.” He says, one hand sliding down the length of your thigh in a smooth, gentle caress. 

You release a shuddered breath, tasting smoke, gunpowder, and sweat as you exhale. He’s close. Too close. It turns your head heady, the smothering heat of him pressing tantalizingly into the curve of your body, made all the worse by the poisoned honey words dripping from his tongue, filling your veins with a syrupy warmth. You’re helpless to deny him. Beneath his practiced touch, your muscles ease, pliant and willing.

“Good girl.” He praises. “That’s it. You’re alright.” 

This time, when his hand slides down, his fingers catch on the hem of your dress. Soft muslin glides along your calf, baring first your ankle, then your knee, then— you tense, a rush of cool air shocking you with awareness. 

Your head turns, preparing to object, when, suddenly, Arthur’s hand squeezes your thigh. Fingers digging into your skin, his strength, barely restrained, rises to the surface, branding a wordless warning against your flesh: There is no getting out of this, so be quiet and take it. 

Any protests you might have offered die in your throat, bitten back as you sense the danger in the air. He’s past the point of reasoning. Only complete and utter submission will satiate him. 

Swallowing thickly, your head falls forward, and Arthur’s grip eases, the languid, soothing ascent of his hand resuming as though nothing had happened at all. With it, your skirts rise ever further, soon leaving the thin material of your drawers as the only barrier between dignity and indecency. 

But even that he takes, greedy for more.

His rough, calloused palms wrap around your thighs, twin thumbs creeping up your sides to tease the outer waistband of your drawers.

“Now, I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” His thumbs dip below, scraping softly against your skin. “But, I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice.”

Slow, achingly slow, he drags his hands down, and you let out a shaky breath, trembling, throat pinching unbearably tight as you’re stripped of that last vestige of dignity and made bare before him. Ravenous, his molten eyes carve along your newly exposed flesh, igniting a trail of goosebumps in his wake. It shouldn’t thrill you, being on display like this, reduced to little more than a fatted calf ripe for the taking, and yet, beneath the scorching burn of shame, something else simmers: desire. 

“M’only gonna tell you this once, so listen carefully,” Arthur says, voice rough and gravelly, “If you miss a number, we start again.”

It’s all the warning you get. The next moment Arthur’s hand cracks against your ass, knocking the breath from your lungs as the force of it pitches you forward, lurching onto your forearms. Pain explodes, searing across your skin like a thousand tiny needles, and instinctively, your fingers curl into the thin, scratchy blanket covering the cot, hardly able to keep yourself from crying out. 

From behind you, Arthur whistles real low as he surveys his handiwork. 

“Look at ‘er.” He says. “Sensitive little thing, ain’t she? Swellin’ real tight already.”

His hand comes up to palm the supple flesh appreciatively, and with it, tears spring in your eyes. Of pain or humiliation though, you can’t tell. 

“I know that one hurt real bad, darlin’.” He croons, the slow caress of his thumb soothing your burning skin. “But, you’re gonna be good f’me, right?” 

Though his voice stays honey-smooth, Arthur’s hand presses just a little harder, his thumb digging just a little deeper, and with it, the pain flares back to life, eliciting a small whimper from you as that blistering sting radiates outward once more. The silent command in his touch is unmistakable. Count. 

“O-One.” You whisper.

No sooner does the word leave your mouth that he strikes again, and this time, you can’t help but cry out, having barely recovered from the first. 

All too late you realize your mistake. Arthur wrenches you up, body against body, cheek against cheek. His thick arms band across your middle, just under the curves of your breasts, while his breath, hot and heavy, caresses the side of your lips, so close you can almost taste the tobacco on his tongue. 

“You’d do well to keep quiet, girl.” He snarls softly, “You’re gonna wake up the whole damn camp if ya keep cryin’ like that, and I ain’t nowhere near finished with you.”

Heat flares in your veins, something in you trilling with anticipation at his words. More. You want more. But instead, he releases you, and as you collapse back onto the bed, all you can think about is how the loss of his warmth, of his firm weight pressing into you, leaves you aching. 

“Now, do as you’re goddamned told, and count.” Arthur sneers, “I won’t tell you again.”

You swallow thickly, heart racing. “T-Two.”

Smack! He strikes again with whip-like precision, and you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your cry, shivering yet longing to obey, to please him. 

“Three.” You croak out.

You brace yourself for the next blow, but when it comes, something is different. No longer the perpetual sharp stab of a thousand pinpricks, the pain, only a slight tingle now, lasts a mere second before dissolving into the growing pool of heat gathering under your abused flesh. It's almost… pleasurable.

Unconsciously, you shift, angling your hips up. 

“Four.” You say, a tad breathless.

And so it continues, for how long you don’t know. Lash after lash, blow after blow, over and over and over again, Arthur falls upon your tender flesh, and that heat grows ever hotter, ever larger. His hand is a brand against your skin. With every searing score of his touch, the flames of desire ignite anew, spreading farther, higher, turning your head sluggish, your veins viscous. And all the while, yawning, aching want salivates between your thighs, throbbing in tandem to each heavy strike of his palm.

It’s a wonder you last as long as you do.

“Eighteen.” You rasp. 

And then, because you can’t quite help it, overcome as you are by that delicious warmth rippling through you, a low whine escapes your throat.

All at once, Arthur stills. 

“Are you—“ He says, utterly incredulous, “Are you enjoyin’ this?”

Before you can answer, he slides one hand between your thighs, two fingers just barely teasing at your entrance. Yet, it’s enough to give you away completely. Your cunt spasms at the feather soft press, tensing desperately around nothing, dripping, weeping into his touch. 

“Goddamn, you are!” Arthur laughs. “Look at’chu, makin’ an absolute mess. Your little snatch is damn near itchin’ to swallow my fingers.”

As though to prove his point, Arthur’s fingers curl against you, sliding languidly into the wet heat of your cunt, and a wave of violent pleasure roils through you. Hungry for more, you greedily clench around him, desperate to take whatever he’s willing to give.

At the sight, Arthur releases a labored breath, muscles thrumming with restraint. For so long, he’s waited to have you like this. On your hands and knees, splayed out before him. He’s dreamed about it. Been tortured by it. 

But you just had to play the damn fool. 

He’ll give you what you want, in time. But first, you still have a lesson to learn. 

His belt buckle jangles, followed by a slight rustle of clothing, and soon, Arthur’s fingers are replaced by the thick length of his cock. With one hand, he guides himself between the slick folds of your pussy, beginning to move in the shallowest of thrusts, teasing, taunting in the slow drag of his cock along your cunt. Up…and down. Back…and forth. And with every pass, tiny, jolting bursts of pleasure wrack through your body, blinding yet fleeting. Maddeningly fleeting. 

You shift, desperate for relief as the ache inside, that overwhelming emptiness, becomes nigh unbearable. 

“Arthur, please, I’m sorry.” You choke out. 

“Shh shh shh. I know you was just trying to help.” He soothes. “But what ya did was dangerous, darlin’. You could’a been hurt real bad. So, I need’ta know that you’ll listen next time, alright? Now, why don’t you use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me what you want, huh?”

Taking himself in hand, Arthur nudges the head of his cock against your entrance. 

“Go on. Show me what’chu can do.” He prods. 

Tell him what you want? If only that were as simple as it seemed. You’d spent months running from this, from your desire. And even now, spread before him, you can’t help but feel frightened to voice this. To confront what your body has already confessed. 

Your heart pounds against your chest, tongue darting out to wet your lips nervously. 

“Please,” You whisper, “I-I want you.” 

“C’mon, girl, you can do better than that.” Arthur taunts. He pushes just a little deeper, offering a taste of your reward should you please him. “Beg for it.”

“I-I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Arthur.” You whimper. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Arthur croons.

Satisfied, he draws your hips back into him, his cock slowly splitting you in two. Wholly unprepared for his sheer girth, your muscles tense at the sensation, mouth opening on a wordless cry. You’ve never experienced such painful, such utterly delicious fullness. It’s as though his cock was made for you, every vein, every ridge handcrafted to heighten your pleasure. It’s too much yet not enough. Helpless, your cunt flutters around him, desperate to pull him deeper, to feel him, all of him. 

“Christ, you’re squeezin’ me like a good for nothin’ whore.” Arthur grunts, fingers curling against your skin to steady himself. “Betchu’d earn a real pretty penny up in Valentine, huh?”

As he speaks, he begins to thrust into you lazily, and with each stroke, passing sparks of pleasure flicker through you, gone too quick to take you anywhere as Arthur deliberately toys with you, holding your release somewhere far beyond your reach. This, more than anything else, is the crux of his retribution. 

“Fuck, darlin’ that’s gotta be the tightest cunt I’ve ever had.” He breathes out, “I can’t believe I almost lost it.” 

For a moment, his words hang fragile in the air. But then, Arthur seems to register what he said, seems to remember what led to this moment, and the anger comes rushing back. His arms tense around you, hoisting you up back to chest as he holds you close. 

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” He snarls, beginning to fuck you deeper, harder as he’s carried away on a sea of rage. “When I came back to camp and saw you were gone, I thought you were dead.”

His hips snap against yours, knocking the breath from your lungs, and with it, you can feel something building, a drawstring pulling tight. 

“What’ll it take to get you to listen to me, huh?” He continues, his breath heavy and uneven as he thrusts up into you, “Maybe I oughta fuck a baby into you. That’ll teach you not to leave. Can’t go nowhere if you can hardly walk, and my babe’ll make sure of that. You’ll be forced to stay at camp and sit there like a good girl, all swollen and fat with my kid, waiting to welcome me back with open arms like you should have been this time. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

Your cunt pulses around him, eager to turn his words into reality, and you cry out, nodding fervently. You can’t think, can’t breathe. You’re caught on the brink of ecstasy, stuck on the edge of tipping over. Please. Please. Please. 

Eyes drifting over you in appraisal, Arthur hums, “Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do. I’m gonna turn you into my little breeding bitch.”

He drives his cock deep, shattering through the veil of your release with a force that steals all the breath from your lungs. With it, a thrumming bolt of white hot pleasure cracks down your spine, cresting over and over and over again. Lost entirely to the throes of ecstasy, you convulse around him, hardly registering the warmth of his spend as he spills inside you. It lasts for minutes, for hours, for days it seems like. When the screen of pleasure finally clears, it is only then that you note the slow, soothing caress of Arthur’s finger against your clit, working you through the peak of your release.

“Shh. Shh. Shh. I’ve got ya, darlin’.” He says, quieting your muffled, unconscious whimpers.

He leans down to nip gently at your neck.

“You did so good girl.” He praises, still lazily thumbing at your clit. And slowly, with the help of his touch, the pleasure fades at last to nothing more than a dull buzz. You collapse against him, utterly spent. 

That is until–

“Bet you can give me another.”

You tense, choking on your breath, as his finger digs a little deeper, sending shocks of blinding pleasure racing across your body once more. It’s too much. Too soon. You can’t. 

“Wa-wait, Arthur–”

“You can take it, can’t ya? I know you can.” He coos, gently rocking his hips against yours as his half-hard cock swells inside you. “You will, won’t you girl?”

As he ruts against you, a pleasant, humming warmth begins to build inside, and you cant your hips toward him. 

You never could deny him anything.

The Next Day

You once used to cherish mornings, delighting in the fact that yours was the first face Lady Dimitrescu saw. It’d made you feel special .

Now, you’d never dreaded anything more. 

You wake with swollen eyes and a weary soul, wishing to avoid Lady Dimitrescu for the first time in your life. You don’t know how to face her. Nothing had truly changed, and yet, in the ways that mattered, everything had. 

However, excuses were unacceptable in House Dimitrescu. The lady would never permit your absence, no matter how desperately you longed for somebody, anybody, even Imogen god forbid, to take your place. And so, with a heavy heart, you somehow muster up the courage to make it to her chambers even though the mere thought of her makes your entire being ache. 

Your strength unravels the second you see her. Thankfully, she still lay sleeping, a small mercy, as silent grief for what could have been consumes you. Tears well, choking you, and despite your best efforts to hold them back, they fall, creating twin streams along your cheeks. 

You attempt to pull yourself together, releasing a deep, shaky breath, but the hole in your heart has become a gaping chasm too big to ignore without your naive hopes to shoddily fill it. And so, you allow yourself a precious few moments to mourn the future you’d always envisioned for yourself. 

Although your broken heart still bleeds uncontrollably, you can feel the streams slow as your emotions settle. The ache is ever-present but tolerable. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do. 

You dry your eyes, the rough material of your dress-sleeve harsh against your sensitive eyelids, and turn to open the curtains.

___

The morning is agonizing. Her proximity taunts you, forever reminding you of your own inadequacy. With hope no longer there twisting your interactions to suit your idle fantasies, you see them for what they are. You attend to Lady Dimitrescu, not as a lover but as a servant, for that’s all you’d ever be. You’d been a fool to pretend otherwise. 

For once, you make no attempt to interact with her as you prepare her for the day. Her presence is suffocating, dragging you further into the depths of your own heartbreak. You can scarcely even breathe, much less talk, while she’s next to you, too distracted by the crushing weight that is slowly caving your chest in. If Lady Dimitrescu notices a difference, she doesn’t comment, but then again, she’d never paid much attention to you in the first place.  

Even when Lady Dimitrescu finally exits the room, there is no relief, for you can see your entire life stretching before you, each day as bleak as the last as the lacerations on your heart continually rip open anew. 

By lunch, you make the decision to quit. 

It had never been done before as Lady Dimitrescu oversaw all the placements in the castle herself. To ask for a reassignment was to question the mistress’ word, and to question Lady Dimitrescu was to sentence yourself to certain death. 

But surely death had to be better than this, right?

You wait until the end of the night, savoring your last moments with her, no matter how painful they may be, for you’d never get the opportunity again. You take your time, more so than usual, as you commit every detail to memory. You never want to forget the way her eyes glow like molten gold in the firelight or how, at certain angles, her face looks as though she had been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself. 

It is only when the last pin is pulled free, when the last curl is brushed through, when you have no more excuse to linger, that you step back and begin your appeal.

“If there is nothing else, Mistress, then I’d like to request a moment of your time before I go. There’s a matter that I need to discuss with you as soon as possible.” You say.

Lady Dimitrescu gives a non-committal hum from where she’s seated at her vanity, not even bothering to turn around, but for once, you find you don’t mind. In fact, it only strengthens your resolve. Were she to look, you know you would waver as traitorous hope would fuel the temptation to believe she might actually care . Her indifference is good. It means nothing has changed. 

With a wave of her hand, Lady Dimitrescu acquiesces, “Alright, but make it quick.”

“Yes, of course, Mistress. Thank you.” You say, giving a quick bob of the head despite knowing she couldn’t see. 

Opening your mouth, the words you’ve been dying to say are on the tip of your tongue when, suddenly, they become stuck. Despite the shattered state of your heart, it stutters when confronted with the reality this request would bring, and for the first time since making the decision, you hesitate. Is this really the way to go? Would living without her truly be better than surviving off the small pieces of herself that she offered you? Could you even live without her? Without her smile? Without her laugh? Without her voice? The thought of life without her made the world seem dark and gray. 

Shaking your head, you force those thoughts away. None of that matters, because you certainly can’t keep living like this . Anything would be better than this. You’ve grown too attached to her, to a woman you can’t even have, and it’s eating away at your very soul. You’d become a shell of the woman you once were, all your energy thrown into futile efforts to capture the attention of someone who’d never looked twice at you and never would. 

The stark reminder that she can never be yours gives you all the strength you need, rendering you void of all feelings in the process. Features becoming impassive, you deadpan, “I’d like to step down from my position as your personal maid.”

Though she remains turned away, Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes snap to yours in the reflection of the mirror, widening ever so slightly as shock penetrates her features. “What did you just say?” She questions. 

“I’d like to step down from my position as your maid,” You repeat, tone flippant, “Tonight, preferably. Please feel free to reassign me wherever you see best. I’m not partial to any specific duties.”

Her shock quickly gives way righteous fury. Standing abruptly, Lady Dimitrescu slams her fists down on the vanity before whirling around to face you. Her eyes are burning. “I demand you tell me your reasoning for this foolish request at once!” 

You won’t as you know with certainty that nothing will change, not in a way that will sway your decision. It will only lead to the final nail in the coffin that contains your heart as you face her rejection once and for all. And so, to retain the last shred of dignity you have, you continue with your cold, detached facade. “My reasons are my own, and I would prefer to keep it that way, my lady.” You sniff, holding your head high in the face of her scrutiny. 

Your words only fuel Lady Dimitrescu’s infuriation. Her form stalks toward you, chest heaving with anger. She stops only when she’s directly in front of you, her eyes blazing with rage as she pierces your gaze.

“Such insolence ,” She snarls, “I don’t tolerate disobedience amongst my staff. If you continue to refuse, then perhaps I have no further use for you and a trip down to the cellars is in order.”

You don’t doubt the sincerity of her words. It had always been a possibility, and well, others had been sentenced for far less. However, you remain unchanged, for death is nothing compared to your current agony. “If that is what you wish, so be it.” You say, inclining your head in a show of acceptance. 

Lady Dimitrescu falters at your reply, stunned into silence for a few moments. Her anger dissipates. “What in the world has gotten into you?” She murmurs, bending down to search your eyes. You meet them readily, taking care to reveal nothing. However, she still seems to find whatever it is she’s looking for as her expression stutters for a single millisecond. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost say she looks sad , but it passes much too quickly to tell, morphing into the resilient, hardened exterior you know all too well. 

“Well, well,” She says, straightening once more, “You have played me for a fool. To think I believed you were different from all the other bumbling maidens in this castle, but this outburst has shown you are just like the rest. I guess some things are too much to hope for.”

Her words hit a nerve but probably not the one she is expecting. In a barren field dried of all emotion, seeds of bitter anger sprout to life. “Hope?” You say, giving a harsh, mocking laugh at the irony, “You wanna talk about hope? For three damn years , I’ve done nothing but hope, and look at where it’s gotten me. Absolutely nowhere. I guess it’s failed us both.”

Silence reigns, yet your anger holds steady. For a long while, Lady Dimitrescu just stares, looking at you as though she’s seeing you for the first time. Finally though, she relents, placing a hand on her hip as her eyes narrow. “Answer me this, truthfully, and I may consider your request: do you truly care so little for me that you’ve given into the fear and hatred that consumes the others?”

Your eyes widen at the accusation. Hate her? Is that even possible? You wanted to. God, you wanted to. It would make things so much easier. But you didn’t, and the thought of her thinking otherwise hurt . It hurt enough to soften the facade you’d been wearing all night, filling you with an urgent need to tell her the truth that overrode all the precautions you’d taken to protect the few pieces of your heart still intact. You could live without her love. What you couldn’t live with was her thinking you felt anything for her other than love. 

However, that realization does nothing to make the process of telling her any easier. Unable to meet her gaze, you look to the floor. “No Mistress,” You murmur, shoulders slumping as you prepare for her rejection. “If you truly must know, it’s because I care for you too much.”

You mean to leave it at that but find you can’t stop. “And I can bear it no longer.” The words continue to fall out, unbidden, in a broken whisper. “I need more from you, that which I am well aware you cannot give me. You have, and will always be, just out of arms reach, and I no longer have the strength to endure it. I cannot continue to pretend to be unaffected by your indifference towards me when it causes me no greater pain. Maybe one day I’ll be able to look upon you and remain unchanged, but today is not that day. If you have ever cared for me at all, then I ask you to grant me this. Allow me to be relieved of my duties. Please .”

Your plea hangs in the air, unanswered for several moments. But then—

“No.” 

One simple word, but it’s strong, unyielding. 

You stiffen as it hits you like a slap to the face. No? You hadn’t prepared for this possibility. In every scenario you’d imagined, the outcome of tonight either ended in success or death. What were you to do now?

Feeling truly hopeless, your eyes slide shut in utter defeat. So that was it then. You were to be doomed to this endless cycle of agony for the rest of your days. After baring your very soul to her, Lady Dimitrescu just spit it back in your face. You truly meant nothing to her. You’d always known it, but to hear it spoken aloud brought another, deeper type of pain entirely.

All you can offer in response is a pitiful “Oh.”

You keep your eyes to the ground, blinking rapidly as you attempt to swallow back your tears. Emotion swells, strangling your heart before clawing its way up your throat. You need to leave. Now, before it escapes. Before it overwhelms you. Before you make yourself a bigger fool than you already have. A tear falls, your bottom lip trembling as heartbreak engulfs you. Some pathetic excuse begins to tumble from your lips, desperate as you are to flee, when suddenly-

“How can I let you go, my dear, when I can’t bear the thought of life without you in it?”

Time stands still. Your eyes widen, breath hitching as your heart skips a beat. The amalgamation of emotion swirling inside you evaporates, leaving behind only the tiniest ray of hope. She-she couldn’t possibly-?

Your head jerks up, eyes snapping to hers, and your heart doesn’t just skip but stops entirely. Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you. Really looking at you. And suddenly, you realize why she had always been so reluctant to do so in the past.

Her love is written plain as day, marred only by an all too familiar sorrow. A perfect reflection of the anguished yearning staining your own gaze. 

All at once, three years worth of assumptions come crumbling down, undone by a single glance. You stumble back, staggered by the immensity of it. 

“Bu-but wha-the others-“ You stammer, scarcely able to believe what you are seeing. It just didn’t make sense. This had to be another one of your dreams. It was the only explanation.

“Mere substitutes, and poor ones at that.” Lady Dimitrescu says, waving off your concern. She looks down, giving you a wry, bemused smile. “Haven’t you ever noticed they always look like you?”

You stop short, mind combing through memories of her past lovers. A sharp gasp of surprise escapes you. They did all look like you. Every single one of them, from the very first right down to Imogen. Same hair, same eyes, same build, same everything . How had you never noticed? Had you truly been so blind? But more importantly—

Why hadn’t she ever said anything? 

“Then, why-“ You start before trailing off, struggling to find the words to ask.

“Then, why did I treat you so coldly? Why didn’t I ever pursue you?” Lady Dimitrescu supplies, one eyebrow raising in a knowing look. 

You nod mutely. Lady Dimitrescu sighs, her eyes sliding away from your face to stare somewhere just beyond your shoulder. “Despite it being my most fervent wish to do so,” She says, “I kept you at arms length out of necessity. It was the only way to keep you safe…from me.”

She says the last part with such finality, as though it explains everything. Yet you’ve never been more confused. Your face scrunches, trying to work out the hidden revelation buried within the words. As though she can sense your bewilderment, Lady Dimitrescu shifts her focus back to you. Her gaze softens, and she reaches one hand out, gently cradling your cheek. “Even now, you still don’t see it, do you?” She says in amazement. “That’s something I’ve always loved about you.” 

Your breath catches. Love? The word passes through her lips so easily. The sky is blue, and Lady Dimitrescu loves you. Like it truly was just as simple as that. And maybe it is, for Lady Dimitrescu takes no notice of your pause, continuing as though nothing has happened.

“The truth, my dear, is that I’m a monster.” She says, proceeding to wave off your protests before you can even open your mouth, “Now, now, don’t start that. Though you might not be able to see it, everyone else in this castle does. And it’s true. I destroy everything I touch, stealing the lives of others to sustain my own. Most of the time, it matters not. They mean nothing. But you …”

She trails off, unable to voice the depth of her emotion. Finally, she settles for, “You’re far too precious to me. I can’t, I won’t , risk any harm befalling you, even if that means denying my own deepest desires. That is why I cannot have you. I fear I would only ruin you.” 

Lady Dimitrescu finishes softly, giving you a sad smile before beginning to pull away. ‘No! Say something!’ Your mind screams. Horror rises as your dreams, which seemed seconds away from becoming real a moment ago, turn to dust in your palm and begin to slip between the cracks of your fingers like sand. 

It can’t end like this, not when it never even had the chance to begin. You won’t let it. Refusing to let go, you ball that hand into a fist, clutching your hopes tighter than you ever had before, and you jump.

“Then ruin me.”

Lady Dimitrescu stills, her fingertips a hairsbreadth from leaving your cheek. 

Emboldened, you reach up, gently guiding her hand back. “You must know by now that I am but a dying woman.” You say, leaning into her touch. “I have descended into madness without the warmth of your embrace. So, do with me what you will. I was only ever yours to ruin.”

Lady Dimitrescu stares uncertainly as her conviction wavers, teetering off the edge of the precipice yet refusing to fall. Your plea joins with the echoes of her heart, urging her to give in, but you can tell it’s not quite loud enough to silence the voices of her mind that warn her to do otherwise. 

You push a little harder. Turning your head, you press your lips against her wrist, murmuring a soft please . 

Her restraint crumbles. Lady Dimitrescu reaches out with her other hand, a tremble present yet tiny enough that it would go unnoticed by anyone other than you. Achingly slow, her fingers slide against your opposite cheek. She leans in, and the world shrinks, everything except the space between your lips ceasing to exist. 

Your first kiss is chaste, barely more than a mere press of the lips. There are no instantaneous explosions. Rather, a missing piece returns, and for the first time in three years, you feel complete. Her touch soothes the hole in your heart, rebuilding it piece by tender piece, as she fills it with her love. 

Whatever boldness had possessed you earlier quickly slips away as you collapse into her embrace. All this time, you’d thought you weren’t good enough. That you were unworthy, pathetic, useless . But, oh, how wrong you were. She’s here, and she’s yours. Silent tears pour down your cheeks as the depth of her emotion washes over you like a wave, welcomed yet overwhelming. 

You drink in her love like a starved woman, filling your heart so full that it hurts . It’s too much, too quickly, and yet you want more . You soon become greedy, hands threading through her hair as you pull her closer, desperate to drown in Lady Dimitrescu’s embrace. She responds in kind, one arm sliding down the length of your body to wrap around your waist. 

She tugs you close, catching you as you stumble into her. Your arms wrap around her neck while you stand on your tiptoes, head tilted completely back, refusing to break the kiss. Lady Dimitrescu straightens, and as you rise as one together, your legs instinctively wrap around her waist, closing the space between your bodies completely. 

Your hands eagerly explore, roaming aimlessly over every inch of her body before slowly drifting to the buttons on the back of her dress, when, suddenly, Lady Dimitrescu’s free hand stops you. 

“Wait.” She murmurs against your lips.

You instantly shrink away, retreating into yourself as insecurity rears its ugly head. You should have known better than to think any of this was real. Why would she ever want you ? How could you have been so stupid? You shouldn’t have reached for more. You should have been happy with what she was willing to give. Now, you’d never get the chance again. 

“Wait, darling, please. It’s not what you think.” Lady Dimitrescu assures, her free hand slipping underneath your chin to tilt your head upwards. Yet, you still refuse to look at her. You can’t. You won’t. You want your last memory of this night to be the feel of her lips against yours, not whatever pity awaits you in her gaze. 

“Look at me. Please .” She cajoles, and it’s the tiny note of desperation that hides behind her lilting tones that finally breaks you. Hesitantly, you raise your eyes to meet hers, jolting at the desire emanating from her gaze. 

“You tend to me so well.” Lady Dimitrescu hums, brushing a stray lock of hair away before pressing another gentle kiss against your lips. Then, she leans in close, the heat of her breath against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. “Allow me the privilege of taking care of you this once.”

You wordlessly nod your assent, too enraptured by her to speak. 

The world shifts as Lady Dimitrescu lays you down on her bed where she proceeds to undress you with reverence, savoring the way your body slowly bares itself to her. 

Uncertainty briefly flickers through your mind as you lay naked before her for the first time. Were you pretty enough? Did she find you desirable? Though you’d dreamed of this moment for longer than you could remember, your heart ached at the thought of disappointing her. 

But then-

“Beautiful.” Lady Dimitrescu breathes, pupils blown wide with adoration. “Absolutely beautiful. How ever did I manage to resist the temptation for so long?”

She kisses you again, deeply this time, driven by a need to be one in both body and soul. Her taste surrounds you, filling your mouth with smoke, wine, and the faintest metallic hint of blood. And god, is it exquisite. You want to sear the flavor on your tongue. You never want to taste anything but her again.

Insecurity washes away, replaced by burgeoning want, as Lady Dimitrescu proceeds to stir every nerve-ending in your body to life. She nips and pecks at your exposed skin, peppering kisses wherever she can touch. Each press of her lips burns. Desire flows through your veins like warmed honey, trickling into your belly. Your hands twitch, begging to reciprocate, yet they’re held trapped by Lady Dimitrescu tight above your head. 

“Next time, darling.” She chuckles. “You shall have your fill of me then. Tonight though, you are mine.”

She trails kisses down your neck before descending upon your breast, her lips wrapping deliciously around the soft flesh while her teeth tug gently on your sensitive nipple. Pleasure buzzes through you, and your eyes flutter closed, giving into the sensation, as a quiet hum escapes your lips. 

There’s no rush to this. Lady Dimitrescu works you slowly, the hot length of her tongue nudging you toward the precipice as she worships your upper body. Arousal pools between your thighs while your cunt, weeping for attention, begins to dully throb. She ignores it for now, keen to savor every inch of your body before giving you release.

Yet somehow, it’s enough. Though her attention remains on your breasts, the sensations she’s wringing from you feel as though she’s pressed against your most intimate places. You rise higher and higher, and then suddenly, your release is washing over you, filling you with the pleasurable warmth of a perfect sunny day. 

Lady Dimitrescu notices the subtle way your body shudders and pauses. 

“Already?” She hums. “You’re so sensitive, darling. Let’s see how many more I can pull from you tonight, hm?”

She kisses her way down your belly, and your legs part instinctively for her as she approaches your center. 

Lady Dimitrescu lays her tongue flat against your mound, licking an experimental stripe up the length of it before pulling away and humming in approval. “Sweeter than my finest vintage.” She says, your arousal glistening on her lips.

She begins to eat you out languorously, once again taking her time to explore you thoroughly. Yet whereas before your body was content to go at her leisurely pace, now it found it agonizingly slow. You shift in an attempt to find some friction. But then, her lips wrap around your clit, and you jerk as a bolt of pleasure races through you.

Suddenly, she’s relentless in her attentions. It’s as though she’s forgotten herself, completely lost in you. You can hardly keep up, dizzy by the switch as you hurtle toward the edge. It’s simultaneously too much and yet not enough. Your legs tighten around her head, and your breath turns ragged as you ache for release.

“Mi-Mistress, please.” You whimper, chest heaving laboriously.

“Alcina.” She replies, sucking hard on your clit and causing you to cry out, “To you, I am Alcina.”

The coil pulls tighter and tighter, about to snap, when her lips disappear. And yet before you can even process what has happened, her lips have slammed against yours while her thumb reaches down to take the place of her mouth, rubbing rough, demanding circles around your clit. 

Your release tears through you, blinding in its intensity as you choke on her name. Pleasure cracks up your spine, and you grasp onto her cheeks, pulling her closer as you delve into her kiss. 

As you ride out the crest of your pleasure, exhaustion rises to take its place. Unbidden, your eyes begin to slip closed. Yet just before sleep takes you, you feel Lady Dimitrescu’s arm slide around your middle, bringing you close against her. You feel the brush of her lips against your cheek and gentle murmurings in your ear.

“Sleep well, darling. I’ll be here tomorrow and everyday henceforth. I love you.”

One week later

Darkness clings to the air, threatening to swallow the flickering candlelight that guides you through the silent halls of Castle Dimitrescu. The night is still. Nevertheless, you shield the flame as you turn a corner, only to find you no longer need it. Light spills through a cracked door, extending into the hall like an outstretched hand. It beckons you forth, and like a moth drawn to a flame, you drift closer to peer through the crack.

At first glance, the room appears to be empty. A fire roars away in the hearth, illuminating walls lined with books. Adjacent, twin settees decorate the inner part of the room, separated by a low tea table. Everything is in its proper place, untouched. And yet, something feels off. It’s almost as though it’s too quiet.

Your eyes roam the scene granted by your limited vision, keen to silence the nagging voice in the back of your mind, but nothing stands out. A sigh of defeat escapes you. You’re about to give up, certain that a servant had simply forgotten this room on their nightly rounds, when, suddenly, from the very corner of your eye, you catch something that appears to be a… shoe? 

Curiosity rouses to life, and before you can stop yourself, your hand is reaching out, gently easing the door open. It swings back, the aged wood groaning in protest, unveiling exactly what you’d thought: a shoe. Your brows furrow in confusion. What was a lone shoe doing in the middle of the room? 

You lean forward, trying to get a closer look, only to discover it isn’t alone. It is the first of many items. A few feet behind it, you catch sight of the shoe’s matching pair, haphazardly tossed to the side. A stray set of stockings follow it, succeeded by a maid’s uniform. And are those- are those your mistress’ gloves? 

You swallow thickly, suddenly wishing you’d never opened the door. It’s obvious where the clothes come from, where they lead to , yet you can’t look away. Pandora’s box has been opened, and there is no going back. 

A choked, pleasure filled moan breaks the silence of the room, a final warning, but by then it’s too late. Your eyes fall upon them, breath hitching as your heart shatters. The maid from last week, Imogen, lays pressed against a wall of books completely naked, head thrown back in ecstasy with Lady Dimitrescu buried between legs. Imogen shudders, finding her release, and Lady Dimitrescu diverts her attention to the thin rivulets of blood oozing from a wound in Imogen’s neck. She licks along the length of Imogen’s body, following the trail before latching on at the source and drinking hungrily. 

“Imogen, dear, you taste utterly divine .” Your mistress groans in satisfaction, pulling back to reveal a mouth painted in red.

You stumble back in utter shock, the wind completely knocked out of you. This couldn’t- couldn’t be real, right? This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. The mistress was supposed to be yours . And yet, she wasn’t. You knew that, but still, you’d always hoped. For years, you’d sustained yourself on deluded daydreams, yearning for the day that your mistress would look at you and finally see you. 

But looking at them now, you realize hope is nothing but a fool’s dream. 

Tears burn at your eyes as you sink to the floor in utter agony. Why was it always someone else? There must be something painfully deficient with you. It was the only explanation. Why else would your lady continue to overlook you for others who were so pitifully average? 

And yet, it’s not like they were any better. Tendrils of anger begin to creep in, momentarily souring your insecurity, for if anyone was deserving of her, it was you . Imogen’s face leaps to the forefront of your mind, causing your mouth to twist in a sneer. What did a simple kitchen maid have that you didn’t? You were the one who came to Lady Dimitrescu’s beck and call. You were the one who dutifully carried out her every need. You were the one who fulfilled her every wish. Why wasn’t it enough?

You pause as a tiny voice whispers that no one, including yourself, could ever hope to be worthy of her, and your anger shatters beneath the crushing weight of your revived despair. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter how much better you were than them. You’d never truly be deserving of your mistress, regardless of how desperately you wished for it, for your lady was a goddess amongst men while you were nothing but a lowly mortal. 

But still, couldn’t she see how hard you tried? Hot tears spring anew as your heart clenches painfully in your chest. You choke on a sob, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. God, if only you were given a chance. So many others had squandered the gift of her love, but, oh, how you’d treasure it, knowing she’d bestowed it on such an unworthy individual. 

That chance was never going to come though. It was a truth you’d spent three years running from, but not anymore. You’d given all you had. There was nothing left. And as you gather yourself to your feet, piercing heartbreak dulls to throbbing numbness. 

She is always particularly stunning at times like these, in the moments before bed when it is just the two of you. Bathed in the dim light of a dying fire, the warm tones of the flames dance across her pale skin, rendering her with an ethereal delicacy akin to the airy paint strokes of Degas himself. Alone in her room and away from prying eyes, she lowers the walls she keeps built so high, softening her features in a way very few get to see. Here, she is simply Alcina, not Lady Dimitrescu, feared matriarch of House Dimitrescu, and you’ve never found her more beautiful.

Slipping out the final pin binding her meticulous updo together, the last of Lady Dimitrescu’s soft curls cascade down to join the other locks resting freely just below her shoulders. Though no longer forced into place, the wisps of hair still frame her face well, seeming to intuitively adhere to the inherent elegance that surrounds her. It’s a sight you’ll never tire of seeing. Hands reaching out, you fluff her hair, fingertips lingering in an attempt to prolong your time together. They ghost along the nape of her neck, pushing the bounds of propriety, and you savor every stolen touch, no matter how brief they may be. It is, after all, the closest you’ll ever be to her, and well, beggars can’t be choosers. 

Swallowing around the yearning that threatens to consume you, the thought that you’d give anything to remain frozen like this briefly crosses your mind. You don’t want the night to end. Here, in the safety of these walls, you’re able to pretend that she’s yours. You brush her hair, not as a servant carrying out the command of her master, but as a lover displaying her affection. You don’t want to let go, for when you do, the illusion will shatter and take any hope of true happiness with it. 

The rules of decorum call for otherwise, however. And so, with great effort, you pull your hands back to your side and step down from your place behind her, head bowing slightly as you await further orders. Seated at her vanity, Lady Dimitrescu barely spares you a second glance as her hands reach up to fill your place. “That will be all. You’re dismissed.” She says.

Straight to the point, just like always. You should have been used to it by now, the coldness with which she spoke to you. And maybe you would have been, if you didn’t know that she was capable of warmth. But you’d seen the way she doted on the maidens that caught her eye, how she spoiled them. Those lucky few were blessed with the privilege of bathing in the inferno of her passion while you barely managed to grasp onto the dying embers. And the scraps that you could get, well, they did little to fill the ever-growing hole in your heart that her indifference fostered. Despite the unceasing pain it brought though, you were certain you’d never stop chasing her affection. 

But you are a servant first and a pining fool second, so nodding stiffly, you turn and murmur, “Yes, Mistress.” 

With a quick curtsy that you’re sure she doesn’t even see, you spin on your heel and begin to make your way towards the door. The facade drops, having no reason left to hide. Unbidden tears spring in your eyes as the hurt that squeezes your fragile, battered heart begins to crawl up your throat, threatening to choke you with its immensity. The slow, steady pace of your steps gradually increase, becoming erratic as emotion threatens to overwhelm you. By the time you reach the doors, you’re all but running, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the room. 

Your hands hurriedly reach out to grasp the handles, and you yank the doors open only to stop short as you come face to face with another servant. Her own hand hangs in the hair, poised to knock. Momentary surprise flashes across her face, her eyes widening as her lips round into a perfect little o, but she quickly regains her composure. She straightens, attempting to appear confident; however, her clasped, fidgeting hands betray her.

Hesitantly, she raises her eyes to meet yours. She says, “Lady Dimitrescu asked to see me.” 

It comes out like a question rather than a statement, but her words nevertheless hit you like a smack to the face. You thought you recognized her, and this is why. She’s the lady’s newest flavor of the month. Day in and day out, they waltz in, having a brief but passionate tryst with the lady. They never last long, barely half a month, and the maidens are often never seen again. Yet the disappearances do nothing to diminish your longing to be chosen. You never are though. In the three years you’ve been at the castle, Lady Dimitrescu has never once looked in your direction, and you doubt she ever will. 

As you stand there, staring at the girl who withers beneath your prolonged silence, jealousy rears its ugly head. It crackles down your spine, snarling like a caged beast and urges you to devour the girl before you. Yet it quickly vanishes as rational thought returns, leaving nothing but bleak melancholy in its place. It wasn’t her fault that you were so inadequate. It wasn’t her fault that she’d piqued the lady’s interest, and you hadn’t. She simply suited your mistress’ taste, and you…did not. It was time you accepted that, no matter how much it hurt. 

Deflated, you step aside while gesturing for her to come in, and she cautiously does so. She tiptoes past you, obviously still intimidated. You are soon forgotten though. Upon leaving your immediate vicinity, her nerves seem to melt away, for she practically skips over to Lady Dimitrescu. 

Remaining rooted to your spot, dread pools in your stomach. You should leave. You need to leave. After all, there is only so much you can take in a single evening. The thought of being forced to bear their affectionate interactions makes you sick. 

It takes you a second too long to muster up the courage. The maiden’s voice floats into the air, all lilting tones and cherubic innocence. “You called for me, my lady?”

The change in Lady Dimitrescu is instantaneous. Though you cannot see her, you can hear her: the way her clothes rustle as she stands, the scrape of the chair against the floor, the delight in her voice as she exclaims, “Imogen dear! You’re just in time.” You imagine that the dazzling smile you’d only ever seen directed towards others sits plastered on her face as she stretches out her arms and leans down to embrace her newest lover. The thought of it being true torments you. 

The drastic shift pierces you like a dagger to the heart. Stiffening, you keep yourself from turning around, unwilling to subject yourself to the misery of seeing your Mistress happy with someone who isn’t you, and quickly hurry out of the room. This time, the tears do fall as you all but sprint back to your chambers, where you remain for the rest of the night agonizing over why it was never you.

Suddenly, she was everywhere, and you didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or sick to your stomach. While the head maid found a replacement by the very next day, relieving you of your serving duties and allowing you to remain in the safety of the kitchens, it was as though everything had changed. And perhaps it had, for she had seen you now, and after your less than stellar first impression, you couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t too keen to forget it. 

Though you didn’t venture far from the kitchens very often, everytime you did, without fail, Lady Dimitrescu just happened to be passing by. And despite your efforts to remain as invisible as possible, she always seemed to notice you, beckoning you to her side as she spoke in that absolutely enchanting voice, “Ah (y/n), darling, I almost didn’t see you. Walk with me.” 

And well, who were you to refuse? Each time, you’d slowly approach her, nerves forcing you to keep a polite distance as you walked beside her. Yet as she began to engage you in light conversation, you’d gradually drift closer, drawn to the sound of her voice and filled by an unconscious need to drown in it. You hardly even noticed what was happening until it was too late.  It was only when her hand would snake its way down the length of your spine, drawing soft and - dare you say it, teasing circles before finally settling on the small of your back that you’d stiffen in realization. As she continued to guide you down the hall, it would become a struggle to answer even her simplest questions, mind painfully aware of her touch. The heady scent of her perfume that would permeate the air did little to help matters. Your mind would become a cloud of confusion as your thoughts raced to discern her intentions, and just when you’d begin to rationalize everything, you’d feel her hand dip lower to brush against the curve of your ass before sliding back into its original position. The touch would be so quick and so light that sometimes you’d wonder if you’d just imagined it. But then, it would happen again, once, twice, maybe even three times throughout the short period of your walk together, and well, there was no way you’d allow yourself to daydream that much, especially in the presence of the one woman you wanted to make a good impression on. Surely one of them had to be real. And the way you’d stumble out of shock after each one, followed by a rush of heat to your cheeks (from the humiliation of embarrassing yourself in front of your mistress or the touches themselves you didn’t know), well those were certainly real. After each brief touch, your immediate instinct would be to question if Lady Dimitrescu herself was even aware of what she was doing. Yet as soon as the thought entered your mind, you’d harshly scold yourself, shocked at your own audacity to even think your Mistress could be making moves on you when you were no more than a lowly maid, nay glorified dishwasher. It simply couldn’t be possible. In all honesty, the thought that Lady Dimitrescu had any idea of what she was doing was laughable. Each touch was nothing more than a slip of the hand, which certainly wasn’t hard to believe considering her height. She likely couldn’t see the exact location of her hand, hence the fleeting yet frequent touches. It was an explanation that never failed to cement itself as truth in your mind by the time the walks were over. The fact that nothing ever came of the touches only solidified its certainty, for as soon as your paths diverged, her touch would disappear as quickly as it came. She’d leave you behind without a backward glance, offering you no more than a crooning “lovely as always, dear” with a wave of the hand as she left you to stare dumbly at her retreating back. As she turned the corner and disappeared completely, you’d at last be released from your trance of bewilderment and free to resume work. 

However, that by no means meant you were able to do a good job. In the hours that followed after these encounters, such as the one you’d experienced earlier that day, your mind wandered frequently. It’d turn the events of your stroll together over, trying to make sense of the complete oddity of them, for as much as you outwardly accepted your conjured explanations, your subconscious found they left much to be desired, often forcing you to return and comb through the memories. Your mind struggled in vain to attain clarity, yet frustration inevitably led you to give up in utter defeat. From there, you’d turn to thoughts that did make sense, almost all of which focused solely upon the mistress herself. The day, and subsequently your work, slipped away as you fantasized about her, languishing in the memory of the feel of her hand, the lilt of her voice, her golden eyes as they connected with yours. It was often enough to invoke a madness of a completely different sort. 

Coincidentally, it was also enough to make you really bad at your job, and the memories of today's encounter were no exception to this effect. For it was only when the harsh call of your name jolted you back into reality that the soapy plate you’d been washing for god knows how long slipped out of your hand, crashing (yet thankfully not shattering) to the floor with a resounding bang .  

As the plate spun round and round, refusing to settle down, you turned, expecting to be scolded (a common occurrence these days). Instead, you’re met with the sight of the head maid again, which causes a wave of dread and apprehension to cover you from head to toe. This couldn’t be good. You hadn’t talked to her, or for that matter even seen her, since that night. There were scant few reasons that could possibly drive her to voluntarily seek you out, and with it being so close to dinner, you felt confident (hatefully so) in which one it was. 

Before confirming your fears though, the head maid made sure to berate you, evidently nowhere near as rushed as she had been the night she’d first talked to you. Hands on her hips, her lips pursed in displeasure as she harked, “Goodness, child, I’ve been calling your name for five minutes now! Where in the world is your head?”

Embarrassment surged through your body at her words. You bowed your head in shame, limp hands clasped loosely at your stomach. When you could offer no more than murmured apologies, the head maid let out an exasperated sigh, deciding to let the subject as well as her arms drop. “Well, no matter. I’ve got your attention now.” She said.

Once those words left her lips, the air shifted, turning somber and serious. She leveled with you, making sure to hold your gaze. The action was enough to cause you to stiffen, eyes widening as a shiver of cold fear rattled down your back. You were certain of what was coming, certain of what she was going to ask you to do, and absolutely certain it was going to end in your doom. The head maid seemed to sense your apprehension, for she paused. Silence prevailed for a few moments as she granted you one last mercy, one last glimpse of freedom. But then, that mercy was shattered. 

“Judging by your expression,” She continued, talking slowly yet sympathetically, “I’m sure you’ve realized why I’ve come. If not, then then I’ll not take the time to spare your feelings, for there’s simply no easy way to put this: the Mistress has requested to dine privately in her chambers tonight, and I’ve been tasked with relaying that you’ll be the one to serve her.”

The Mistress? Dining privately ? That-that was simply unheard of, for it was well-known that the daughters insisted on eating with their mother and, perhaps even more so, that the Mistress’ boundless affection for them kept her obliged to their every wish, not least of which was that one. What reason could she have to forsake them now by dining in her chambers? 

The whole situation filled you with unease and left you eager to have no part of it. Yet you were barely even able to open your mouth to protest before the head maid held a hand up. You stopped short, mouth left gaping and silent, as the head maid admonished, “I’ll have none of that now. There is no way out of this. The Mistress has requested you personally, and I’ll not be the one to disobey a direct order.” 

You could do no more than nod mutely, too overcome with dread. The Mistress specifically asked for you? Whatever in the world could have possibly led her to request you, of all people, to serve her? Had you been naive to think you’d escaped her wrath that first night? Had she just been toying with you this whole time, using your walks as a way to lure you into a sense of false security? Was the Mistress at last going to punish you for your abhorrent behavior that night? You let out an audible gulp of fear at that thought. 

It won’t come to that, you thought. Shaking your head, you steered your mind away from the gruesome images of your maimed body it insisted on conjuring yet still found no reprieve. For even if the Mistress had no underlying motivations for requesting you, there was still the matter of being in her presence alone to deal with. It was hard enough to make it through your five-minute walks without transforming into an infatuated, love-drunk fool. How in the world were you supposed to keep your composure for an entire dinner!? The simple answer: you wouldn’t be able to. One look from her and you’d be reduced to a stuttering, blushing mess. 

However, the head maid was right. You couldn’t ignore a direct order from the Mistress. And so, it was with a heavy heart that you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that either death or disgrace awaited you. 

The light touch of a hand pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked down to see the head maid guiding your arm onto the nearby serving cart that was stacked high with silver plated dishes. Patting your hand, she let go, offering no more than a simple “off you go.” A sad smile accompanied it, as though the head maid knew it was unlikely you’d live to see the next morning. The image imprinted itself on your mind, heightening your sense of impending doom as you began the trek to the Mistress’ chambers. 

The halls were empty as you traversed down them, nothing but the occasional squeak from the cart and the echo of your footsteps to break the endless void of silence. It was as though everyone had scattered, leaving the castle to hold its breath while it waited for your demise. 

Despite your trepidation, you trudged on and soon arrived at the ornate oak doors that marked the entrance to Lady Dimitrescu’s chambers. They loomed overhead, the intricate carvings taking on a monstrous face that multiplied your fear tenfold. Letting out a shaky breath, you knocked thrice in quick succession, calling out, “I’ve arrived with your meal, your Ladyship.”

A simple enter came floating through the door in Lady Dimitrescu’s soft lilting tones. At once, your fear seemed to dissipate, soothed by the sound of her voice as well as the fact that it was decidedly not angry. A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and with it, the bestial doors settled back into their dormant state. The click of the latch rose through the air followed by the low groan of the aged doors as you stepped across the threshold. 

Plates rattled on the serving cart as you fully entered into the room. Lady Dimitrescu sat at her desk, adorned in a pair of reading glasses. Guided by the warm light of a tabletop lamp, she poured over a set of documents, spread out neatly across the desk’s surface. For many moments, the scribble of her ballpoint pen was the sole sound to fill the air. Sometimes, it was accompanied by the shuffle of papers as she swiveled her head between documents. She didn’t acknowledge you, and with each moment that passed, your uncertainty grew. You shuffled to the side, hugging the wall opposite of her and standing awkwardly as you awaited her command. 

At last, her pen paused, and she looked up for the first time since you’d entered the room. Her burning golden eyes penetrated your gaze to make you feel as though mere inches separated you. You sharply inhaled. Tension snapped into place, drawn taut and thick. And for a singular moment, your deepest desires were laid bare, conveyed only through your eyes. But then, before you could tell if she had seen, it burst. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of the Mistress’ mouth, causing confusion to bloom up. She peered knowingly over the rim of her glasses, smirk widening at the sight of the baffled furrow of your eyebrow. 

“I just need to finish up a few small details with the ledger.” She said, “You can begin setting up while I do so.”

She lifted one elegant, gloved finger to the left, and your eyes followed, landing on a rectangular table. It was modest in size, able to seat no more than two comfortably at opposite ends. A merlot red table cloth draped along the length of it, falling low enough to brush one’s lap while still leaving the intricate woodwork of the table legs visible. Somehow, in your utter incompetence as a servant, you had missed sight of it completely. 

Your cheeks burned in mortification. Jumping into action, you hurriedly began to set the table, working twice as fast to make up for lost time. Covered dishes flowed freely from the serving cart to the table as you danced around the perimeter of it. Plates and silverware followed quickly after, arranged in the meticulous pattern so-favored by nobles. After that, two candles were inserted into the centerpiece adorned in greenery and freshly picked roses. You struck a match pulled from your apron pocket, delicately shielding it as you went to light the wicks. 

Yet no sooner had you done so than a shadow appeared, engulfing the warm light given off by the fresh flames as it stretched across the length of the table. You craned your neck up to find Lady Dimitrescu looming over you, surveying your work. But then, her gaze snapped to you, burning with mysterious intensity. You stiffened, tension instantly crackling once more through the air. Only this time, it was you to break it. You stood with your eyes wide, unable to blink and unable to breathe as you drowned in the blazing depths of her gaze. Yet when your need for oxygen could no longer be denied, you released the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, eyes sliding away from hers as you gasped for air. 

The moment broke and brought with it a wave of unknown embarrassment. Feeling as though you could no longer face her, you scurried around the table, keeping your head bowed, to pull out a chair for Lady Dimitrescu. You could feel her gaze bearing into you, yet you refused to acknowledge it. Your head remained low with your hands clasped in your middle. The silence stretched, becoming long and unbearably heavy. 

Yet at last, the weight of her gaze lifted. The rhythmic clack of her heels followed soon after, shattering the silence completely as well as whatever had just transpired. Your embarrassment melted away and sank through the previous layers of tension, slicing through everything to leave nothing at all. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The moment boiled down, erasing all evidence that anything had ever occurred at all and shifted the atmosphere into one of normalcy by the time the Mistress reached you. 

You curtsied as Lady Dimitrescu settled into her chair. Once seated, you stepped up to the table to begin serving the first course. “Thank you dear” Lady Dimitrescu said, reaching forward to grasp onto your hand that was now within arms reach, “Everything looks lovely.”

As she said this, her hand slid up the length of your arm before descending once more to briefly clasp your hand, giving it one gentle squeeze before dropping completely. Though her touch was fleeting, it seared itself upon your skin. Excitement rippled throughout your body as images of her hands elsewhere, on your hips, on your thighs, everywhere, flashed throughout your mind.  

Cheeks burning, you averted your gaze. “I-I’m glad it’s to your liking, Mistress.” You murmured, “If you require anything of me at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” 

“There is one more thing.” Lady Dimitrescu began. Her voice drew your attention, and you watched, transfixed, as one sleek, glove-covered hand passively gestured toward the plate of still steaming food. She continued, “Would you mind terribly, dear? These small utensils make it awfully tedious to eat my meals, and my hands are quite cramped from all the work I’ve had to take care of today. I think you’ll be much better suited to the task tonight.”

Eyes squinting in confusion, you remained silent as you struggled to sort through her words. Yet even after the implications of her request began to sink in, words continued to evade you as confusion gave way to shock, leaving you unable to do more than stare dumbly ahead. Was-was she asking you to feed her? A cursory glance in her direction confirmed that, yes, that was exactly what she wanted you to do. 

Panic settled in quick and heavy. There was no way you could do that. And yet, how could you refuse? The head maid would have your head if you did anything to invoke the Mistress’ ire. But still, the idea of feeding the Mistress was too familiar, too intimate . Merely imagining it had heat flushing throughout your cheeks. You feared your already fragile composure would completely shatter if you were to comply with her wishes, dragging your mind down with it. You’d be reduced to a blabbering, nervous fool, spouting absolute nonsense as you desperately tried to conceal the overwhelming feelings of attraction incited by her proximity. You had to find a way out of this. Now. Before you humiliated yourself beyond repair. 

As though she could sense your hesitation, Lady Dimitrescu interrupted the frenzied flow of your thoughts. “Well?” She prompted, arching a singular eyebrow as if daring you to protest, “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, of course Mistress, it’s just…” You stammered, trailing off in a desperate attempt to stall for time. Eyes flitting around the room, you frantically floundered for a way out. The seconds ticked by, and the air grew thick and heavy, urging you to concede defeat as your efforts continued to prove fruitless. But then, a realization hit, for there was a problem. A big problem to be precise: the Mistress currently occupied the only chair in the room. 

And in that problem lied your salvation, for you wouldn’t be able to feed her without a chair of some sort. She was simply too tall. Filled with renewed hope, you continued where you left off. “Chairs!” You blurted, calming marginally afterwards, “There aren’t any other chairs, my lady, so where am I supposed to sit?”

As though she had been waiting for those exact words to escape your lips, Lady Dimitrescu smirked triumphantly at your exclamation, causing your stomach to churn as nerves slithered up your spine. She looked you right in the eye, your confidence withering in the face of her own, before sealing your fate with a wave of her hand. 

“Right here, of course.” Lady Dimitrescu drawled, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as she gestured at her lap.

You choked on her words, eyes bulging out of your head. Sit on the Mistress’ lap!? It was simultaneously your worst nightmare and wildest fantasy come to life. 

What in the world was the Mistress thinking? There was no denying she was playing some sort of game; you just didn’t know what it was. She was toying with you, much too easily. It was clear that you weren’t even a player in whatever this was. You were just a mere pawn for her to move about the board as she pleased, no more than a slave to her whims. Your unease grew with that realization. How were you supposed to get out of this when she was already two steps ahead of you? 

There was only one answer: defiance. If you couldn’t play the game, then you’d halt its progress altogether, and that meant keeping your distance. But how? What excuse could you possibly give for her to accept such direct insolence? Propriety! Though she’d already thrown most of it out the window, the basis of proprietary was the best option. You could only hope that what meager bits were left would be enough to assuage her. 

Taking a deep breath, your mouth parted to decline her request. Yet before your own voice could be heard, Lady Dimitrescu’s rang strong through the air. “I do hope you weren’t about to object dear, “ She interjected, a clear threat concealed behind her crooning dulcet tones, “I would hate to have to punish you.”

You deflated immediately, all thoughts of protest purged from your mind as you didn’t fancy dying tonight. Or any night really. You’d have to take your chances and play right into her hand. There was no other choice. 

Body slumping in defeat, you mumbled, “O-of course not, Mistress.” 

You shuffled towards her, nerves flaring. Anxiety settled thick and heavy in your stomach, clogging up your throat in the process. Yet as you began to climb into Lady Dimitrescu’s lap, fear quickly gave way to desire as your hand made contact with her dress. The thin material left little to the imagination as your fingers molded perfectly around the curvature of her thigh. Excitement sparked, and your breath hitched, heartbeat thundering in your chest. Images of your hands elsewhere flashed unbidden throughout your mind, fueled by a desperate longing to trace the entire length of her body and commit every valley and ridge to memory. 

Oh, this was going to be so much harder than you thought. 

Settling into her lap, you attempted to distract yourself by focusing on your breathing. Drawing a deep breath, it proved to have the complete opposite effect as the heady scent of Lady Dimitrescu’s perfume flooded your senses. It pulled you in closer, enveloping your mind in a haze that beckoned you to lose yourself in her. And you did. For a moment, she was all you were aware of as you were unable to think beyond how utterly divine she smelled. God, what I’d give to drown in that scent. 

Unconsciously, your body began to tilt forward, eager to fulfill that wish. At the same time, Lady Dimitrescu placed a steadying hand across your waist, jolting you back to reality and to the distressing situation at hand. Your back went ramrod straight at her touch, the soft flesh of your abdomen burning beneath her fingertips. The Mistress’ hot breath ghosted across the nape of your neck, causing your own to hitch in response, as her lips came to rest against the shell of your ear. “After you, my dear.” She whispered sensuously, one black gloved hand coming into your peripheral to gesture at the food in front of you.

You fought back a full body shudder, desperate to conceal the effect she had on your body. You nodded, raising trembling hands to grab the fork and knife. You melted before her watchful eye, movements becoming sluggish as you began to slice the prepared steak into thin pieces painfully slow. Your mind drowned in the heat emanating between the press of your bodies, torn between instinct and logic. You couldn’t think. It was all too much. 

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you stabbed a piece of meat before twisting your body to face Lady Dimitrescu. By this point the tremble in your hands had given way to a noticeable shake, and your breath stuttered as you began to lift the bite towards her mouth. You refused to look her in the eye, certain you would combust under the full intensity of her gaze, so you settled for her lips, coated in her signature red. You watched, pupils blown wide, as they descended toward your outstretched hand, thrown into fantasies of her lips on your skin. The heat of her tongue laving across the curve of your neck, her teeth lightly nipping at the tender flesh. The image had you clenching your legs as a wave of arousal coated your panties. Mortification rushed through you, desperately hoping that the Mistress didn’t feel it.

Your attention flicked back to her just in time to see her wrap her lips around the fork, tongue first. Tugging the bite off achingly slow, her eyes arrested yours, leaving you breathless as you watched utterly transfixed. She smiled around the fork, amused by something unknown to you, and your cunt throbbed in response as more slick gushed out of you. 

Yet you continued to watch, dumbfounded, as she pulled away. Straightening, she gave an appreciative hum that rattled through you before she swallowed, the movement drawing your eyes to her throat as you followed the bite downward to settle on the curvature of her breast. 

“Delicious.” She crooned.

You bit down hard on your lip in an effort to stifle the moan that threatened to escape, yet a choked warble still managed to break free.

Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes snapped to yours, a smirk spreading across her face that left no doubt that she had heard and causing your cheeks to flame. 

This was absolute torture.

Dinner proved to be a painstaking affair, conducted mostly in silence, which somehow made it worse. Without the distraction of conversation, it became impossible to focus on anything except your traitorous body. With every passing moment, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the pressing need growing between your thighs. Your body was hot, too hot, as desire coursed thick and heavy throughout your veins. By now, you’d soaked your undergarments, and you could only hope they were thick enough to prevent any evidence of your state from dripping onto Lady Dimitrescu’s dress.

The Mistress did little to help matters, being the most sensual eater you’d ever heard. She drew out every single bite, swirling her tongue around the fork before enveloping those perfect lips around the food. The movements were enough to have your thighs clenching in want as you imagined it was your cunt she was eating instead. Your fantasies were spurred further by the moans of delight she let out at the meal, each one resonating straight to your cunt. 

It was becoming harder to hide just how affected you were. Your breathing had turned ragged, masked only by the scraping of the cutlery against the plate, yet you didn’t even notice as the thundering beat of your heart pounded in your ears. Unconsciously, you’d taken to shifting your weight ever more frequently, a subconscious attempt to relieve the ache building between your legs. You weren’t sure how much of this you could take.

Turning back to the plate, you prepared for another excruciating bite only to find it empty, a sight you had never thought could inspire such happiness. You wanted to weep in relief. You were finally free. Filled with desperation, all thoughts of propriety were thrown out the window in your haste to leave. Your hands grasped the table as you scrambled to get down, catching on a few stray pieces of silverware that clashed against the plate. Yet you paid it no heed, hardly even registering it at all in your need to get away.

It was only when Lady Dimitrescu’s hand tightened around your waist that you stilled, just barely cognizant enough to recognize the warning in her grip. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Lady Dimitrescu chided, “Not so fast, pet. We haven’t had dessert yet.”

Your mouth went dry, despair blooming in your stomach, as you realized you’d completely forgotten about dessert. Tears bloomed at the corner of your eyes, on the verge of spilling, out of sheer frustration. You couldn’t take it anymore. If you could just get away , even for a moment, you were sure you’d be able to pull yourself together. Yet that seemed like a fool’s dream with the hand wrapped around your waist. That is, until you spied the forgotten dining cart abandoned on the opposite side of the room, decidedly away from Lady Dimitrescu and her intoxicating scent. 

You cleared your throat. “Of course, my lady,” You said, “I’d never forget. In fact, that’s just what I was going to get. It’s a delicious little tart. I think you’ll love it.”

Beginning to slide out of her lap once more, you were stopped again as her grip became iron, refusing to let you move. “Hmm,” She intoned, “That sounds lovely dear, but I find that I’m not in the mood for a tart tonight. I’m craving something a bit sweeter.”

You shivered, mind running wild at the implications her words carried. She-she couldn’t possibly mean-? Could she? Your thoughts evaporated as you felt the gentle press of feather light kisses ghosting against your jaw. Reveling in the contact, your eyes fluttered closed, a series of sighs escaping you as you leaned into her touch. 

Resting her lips on the shell of your ear, her heated breath brushes your face as she whispers, “I’ve been able to smell your desire all night. Won’t you let Mommy take care of you?”

Nodding in assent, you turned your head, hoping to catch her lips only to find they weren’t there. Your eyes shot open just in time to see her pull away, and it was all you could do to stop yourself from reaching for her. A whine escaped your lips, having been reduced to a needy mess. Yet Lady Dimitrescu remained unswayed.

She looked down at you with devilish eyes. “I want to hear you say it first, pet.” Lady Dimitrescu smirked. “You’ll get nothing from me until you do.”

Deep down, a part of you recoiled in horror. She wanted you to beg ? The prospect was absolutely humiliating. Yet it wasn’t enough to deter you. By this point, you were too far gone, a slave to the flames of desire that had steadily built in you throughout the night. You’d do anything to please her.

“Please, I-,” you whimpered, wide eyes staring up at her in desperation, “I need you, Mommy.”

She grinned in satisfaction. “Good girl.” She crooned as she used one hand to tilt your chin up, her thumb coming to rest against your trembling bottom lip that parted willingly in anticipation. 

Then, without another word, she leaned down, lips slotting perfectly against yours. You melted instantly. After being deprived for so long, your body shuddered in pleasure at the brief contact. Twisting yourself around for better access, hungry hands trailed across Lady Dimitrescu’s curves, seeking to drown in the feel of her. Yet hers remained locked on your waist, maneuvering your body to face her fully. With ease, Lady Dimitrescu lifted you up onto the table, sending various pieces of dinnerware clattering to the floor, yet you hardly even noticed, never once breaking from her lips. 

A whine escaped you as Lady Dimitrescu pulled away, yet it quickly crescendoed into a moan as she moved to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy. She paused at the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as she reveled in your scent. “You smell absolutely divine , darling.” She said, sweeping the length of her tongue across your skin. “Let’s have a taste, shall we?”

Sinking her teeth into your neck, you let out a cry of pain as Lady Dimitrescu began to drink from you with vigor. It should have repulsed you. It should have sent you reeling in horror. Yet the pain only seemed to heighten your pleasure as each pull from her mouth beat perfectly in time with your fluttering pussy, drawing deep moans from you. You bucked your hips into her, desperate for any sort of friction to ease the throbbing in your cunt.  

And your lady was nothing if not generous. Her free hand trailed up the length of your skirt, rubbing your thighs in teasing circles before at last beginning to toy with your entrance…your absolutely soaked entrance. 

Pulling away from your neck, she smirked in satisfaction as she held her hand up to the light and saw your juices glisten. “All this for me?” She asked, eyes flitting to your breathless form that watched her in a lustful haze, “My, my, you are quite the needy pet.”

She leaned in, licking the trail of blood slowly seeping from your fresh wound all the way up to the shell of your ear. “You’ve been so good for me tonight, so I’ll excuse it.” She said, her hot breath fanning against the side of your face and sending another shiver through you. “I suppose it’s about time you received your reward anyway.”

With wide eyes and bated breath, you watched as one of her nails elongated into a sharp claw that tore your dress and undergarments in one fell swoop, baring your body to her completely. There was but one moment, as you sat completely naked, that her eyes raked over your form, appreciating it in its entirety, before she was on you, hands slowly sliding up the length of your legs, parting them before disappearing in between them. The next thing you knew, the hot length of her tongue was pressed flat against your center as she experimentally dragged it along the length of your entrance. Rendered so sensitive from her earlier ministrations, the small touch had you bucking into her, desperate for more. Smirking against you, Lady Dimitrescu pushed her tongue into you in a quick thrust, eliciting a moan from you, before moving upwards to take your clit into her mouth, sucking hard against the small bundle of nerves. From there she quickly built a rhythm, going back and forth, expertly manipulating your body beneath her tongue. You could hardly keep up, breath turning ragged as she propelled you toward your orgasm. Your pulsing cunt clenched around nothing, every muscle in your body tightening in anticipation. You were close. You could feel it. 

“I-I’m going to-to-.” You stammered, gasping for breath. 

“That’s it,” Lady Dimitrescu crooned, looking as composed as ever as her eyes peered up over your stomach to lock with your own, “Go on, I want to see you come undone.”

It was all you needed to send you over the edge. White hot pleasure cracked up your spine, and for a moment, you were sure you were going to black out from the sheer force of it. You lost yourself to the rush of endorphins sent careening throughout your body, hardly even noticing the way your legs convulsed uncontrollably against the table as you fought to recover. 

When you finally did, you were met with the sight of Lady Dimitrescu collecting your juices with one long finger, and you watched, transfixed, as she brought it to her mouth, wrapping her lips around the entire length of the digit. Closing her eyes, she let out a hum of contentment as she appreciated the taste. “Absolutely exquisite.” She said, “I send my compliments to the chef.”

At that, she paused momentarily to wink mischievously at you, causing you to avert your gaze as a deep flush spread across your face. She grabbed her handkerchief, dabbing your juices off the corner of her mouth, before turning to settle the full weight of her gaze upon you. “Now then, it’s time for you to run along, darling.” She commanded, “The hour grows late, and we wouldn’t want you missing work in the morning.”

Her words poured over you like a bucket of cold water, rendering you absolutely speechless. She talked as though everything that had just transpired hadn’t happened at all. Your eyes furrowed in confusion until all at once realization hit.

But of course. How could you have been so stupid ? This changed nothing. It was silly to think that this could have meant something to her. Still, it didn’t change the fact that it meant something to you . Her clear dismissal hit you like a punch to the gut, and you desperately fought against the tears threatening to make an appearance. Despite the pain blooming in your chest, you refused to cry. She was your mistress, and you would show her the respect that she deserved.

“O-of course Mistress,” You murmured, sliding to the floor as humiliation and heartache overwhelmed you. Fixing your torn dress as much as you could, you stood and began to brush invisible specks of dirt off your skirt. Unable to bring yourself to meet her eyes, you still upheld formalities, “Is there anything else you require of me before I take my leave?”

“No, that will be all.” She said. Nodding, you turned and began to gather the miscellaneous dishes strewn about the room, piling them high onto the serving cart, before beginning to make your way out of the door. You only stopped when her voice suddenly called out your name. Spinning back around, you met her gaze in the mirror where she had moved to sit at her vanity. “In the morning, be a dear and inform the head maid that I’ll be dining privately much more frequently for the foreseeable future. I find that work will keep me much more busy than usual.”

All around you, the kitchen was in chaos. Staff crowded throughout the small space, weaving through the tight walkways and just barely managing to avoid bumping into one another as they scrambled to carry out their duties. A clanging cacophony of pots and pans rose above the hiss of sizzling food, wisps of steam curling into the air to turn the cramped area unbearably hot. The discomfort of such conditions seemed to further agitate the head chef, her barked orders becoming more frequent as she lost her patience, which only fanned the flames of disorder as servants picked up the pace, unwilling to become the object of her ire. 

Yet you barely even noticed, off in a world of your own. It was one of the few perks that came with working at the castle for so many years. Being fully accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the kitchens meant you could effortlessly tune all the commotion out, and it was only made easier by the fact that you had no role in the preparation of tonight’s dinner. Instead, you sat tucked away in a hidden corner and up to your elbows in soap and water, fully engrossed in your rather mundane task of washing the dishes. Despite the simplicity of the work, it was proving to be quite the challenge as you found yourself at odds with a particularly tough stain left behind in a large soup pot, a deep scowl spread across your face as you furiously scrubbed at it. 

It was for this reason that you completely missed the entrance of the head maid, uncommon considering it was so close to dinner. Frazzled, her head swiveled around the room, wild eyes frantically flitting to and fro as she searched for anyone who could be spared from their duties before finally landing on you. Shoulders slumping in relief, the older woman hurried over to you surprisingly fast for her age. 

“Come with me, girl.” She ordered, leaving no room for protest as she grabbed onto your arm and began to forcibly tug you away. 

A surprised yelp escaped you at her sudden intrusion, causing you to drop the pot in your hands altogether. It toppled down into the sink, sending a slew of soapy water sloshing over the rim and straight onto your dress, soaking it through entirely. Water seeped through the thin material, the wet cloth sticking to your skin like glue and leaving you cold and uncomfortable. A string of curses left your lips, but the head maid paid your outburst no heed, singularly focused on her task to pull you away from your work. 

Distracted by the soggy state of your dress, it barely registered that you were even moving for the first few moments, and you were little more than a pliant doll beneath the woman’s fingers as she dragged you to god knows where. Your stupor was only broken by a particularly loud clang from a nearby pot, jolting you back into reality with the stark realization that this woman was tearing you away from your work—work that would leave you in a heap of trouble if left unfinished. The mere thought of your superior’s wrath was enough to spur you into action, wet dress and everything else be damned. 

Staunchly digging your heels into the ground, you began to furiously yank on your trapped arm. When that yielded nothing, you added in your free arm, pushing against her fingers wrapped around your wrist. A small grunt of frustration escaped your lips when it didn’t budge in the slightest. As you became increasingly frustrated, by your lack of success or her continued silence you didn’t know, your efforts were soon joined by choruses of “Hey! Let me go!”

Despite your protests, the head maid continued to ignore you, dragging you along with ease as her grip never let up. Hard stone soon gave way to plush carpet and — wait, was that-was that the entrance to the dining room up ahead? What the hell was going on? Whatever it was, your gut was telling you that you weren’t going to like it, which only increased your desire to return to the craziness of the kitchens. It was too quiet here. Much too quiet. As though at any moment something was going to jump out and tear you to shreds. Encouraged by your unease, your escape attempts became near hysterical as your body screamed for you to get away. 

Face scrunching up with effort, you pushed fruitlessly against the arm holding you captive — God, was it made of steel? — crying out, “Hey! Would you stop and listen to me!? I can’t just leave! I need to have those dishes done before dinner is over, or the cook will have my head!”

Coming to a stop in front of the looming double doors that led into the dining room, the head maid finally released your arm, which you quickly snatched back, beginning to rub soothing circles around the angry red marks caused by your protests. 

Letting out a sigh, she turned to face you, at last giving you the courtesy of answering your questions. “You are needed elsewhere, so leave them be. I have just been informed that one of our usual serving girls has been sent to the cellar, rendering us short of a hand. As such, you’ll be serving the Lady and her daughters in her stead tonight.” 

At her words, you stumbled in shock. The Lady and her daughters? Your mouth went dry as you began to process what that would entail before coming to the conclusion that there was simply no way you could do that, not if the Mistress was going to be there. Though in your defense, your aversion to the Mistress stemmed from a place much different than the others. Whereas your fellow servants were ruled by fear, cowering at the mere mention of the Lady’s name, you’d always leaned toward the opposite end of the spectrum, holding a deep lo- admiration for her, which was just as fatally distracting.  

You’d only seen her once, when you first arrived. As you’d entered the castle, sandwiched in between a gaggle of other girls as one of many new recruits, she’d been there to greet you all, looking absolutely breathtaking as she towered above you all at the top of the stairs. Her eyes had passed over you merely once - looking without seeing before she’d turned to gracefully walk away, introductions completed. Soon after, you’d been whisked away to the kitchens where she hardly ever visited, meaning your meetings with her consisted of no more than a fleeting glance at her retreating back on the rare occasions your duties took you outside the kitchen walls. 

Perhaps that was why you found yourself so enamored by her. Sheltered by the kitchens, your job was one of the few that practically guaranteed your safety. You didn’t have to live in fear, simply because she didn’t know you existed (though you’d spent many a night uncertain as to whether you were disappointed or grateful for that fact). With your vision unclouded by fear for your survival, you were able to see her for what she was: a strong and beautiful woman who could hold her own. What wasn’t there to admire about that?

Ever since your first meeting, there was no denying you’d longed for the chance to see her again, but to bask in her presence for an entire evening? There was no way you’d be able to get through the dinner without making a complete fool out of yourself and earning the Mistress’ ire. You’d be lucky if you’d be able to sleep in your own bed tonight and not the hard stone of the cellar floor. You needed to get out of this and quick. 

“I’ve never served a dinner before, only helped cook it! There’s no way I could possibly do this!” You exclaimed, panicked eyes flitting this way and that as you halfway contemplated making a run for it back to the kitchens.

Giving you a stern look, the head maid replied, “You can, and you will.” Turning, she grabbed a nearby wine flask seated on top of a serving cart and thrust it into your arms. “Your job will be simple. Your only task is to make sure the Lady and her daughters never see the bottom of their wine glasses. The others will take care of the rest.”

When that did nothing to ease your panic, her eyes softened ever so slightly. “Just follow the lead of the other girls, and you’ll be fine.”

Gulping, you tugged the flask close to your chest, hugging it close in a vague attempt to find some sort of comfort. With one final nervous nod, you slowly began to shuffle your way toward the dining room when her hand suddenly shot out to grab onto your arm. Head whipping around to look at her, you met her serious eyes as she gave you one last piece of advice. “Whatever you do, don’t draw attention to yourself.” 

Then she was off, disappearing down the hall from which you came. 

Turning back to face the doors that loomed ominously, nerves threatened to consume you. What would await you behind these doors? Had the meal already started? Were the Lady and her daughters already there? At that thought, you stiffened, unable to move another step as your mind began to run wild. You imagined that they’d turn to look at you, four sets of eyes staring at you unblinkingly, before the infamous maniacal laughter of the daughters would break out as they delighted in your presence, at the arrival of a new plaything. And then...they’d descend upon you, tearing you to bits for daring to interrupt their family dinner. 

Staring at the doors, you remained rooted to the spot. You didn’t want to go. Stepping across the threshold would end in your doom, you were sure of it. And yet, you had no choice in the matter. The head maid had made sure of that. Taking a stuttering breath, a shaky hand reached out to grasp the handle and began to slowly push it open, the lengthy creaks emitted from the old wood causing you to wince, half convinced that they’d pounce on you before you even really had a chance to step into the room. When the door finished swinging open though, you found yourself face to face with...nothing, only a couple of other servants setting up the table. 

At the sight of the empty table, a sigh of relief escaped your lips, shoulders slumping as the tension slithered away. You could do this. You were sure of it. Hesitantly approaching the table, you began to make your initial rounds, mechanically filling the glasses as a mantra took root in your head. Just pour the wine and don’t draw attention to yourself. Just pour the wine and don’t draw attention to yourself. Over and over you repeated it, saying it so much that the words lost meaning completely. As your task came to an end though, so too did the chant. No sooner had it ended than you made your way over to a hidden corner, out of sight, near the other maids where you would stand until needed. With the preparation for dinner complete, silence fell over the dining room, and in its place anticipation began to snake its way up your body as you waited for them to arrive. 

You heard them before you saw them. The first sound to break the silence was the heavy groan released by the doors opening, the ones opposite to the end you came from, though it was soon drowned out by the buzzing of swarms of flies. Snapping your gaze to the doorway, you’re met with the sight of three identical swaths of pure black, which you soon realize are actually clusters of flies. As they race into the room, laughs emitting from the swirls as they swarm around the maids who have stepped forward to pull their chairs out, you’re met with a new sound, that of heels clicking across the stone floor. Immediately, the flies cease their fun, gathering together to form the bodies of the three daughters who promptly take their seats at the table. Though you barely notice, too transfixed by the sight of the Lady of the house bending down to enter into the room. With bated breath you wait to gaze upon her face, currently blocked by the hat she wears, hoping to see if your memory holds up well. 

Upon entering the room, Lady Dimitrescu stands upright, towering over the room and its inhabitants. Though instead of fear, you are instantly struck by awe, eyes widening to fully take in the vision that stands before you. Memory did not serve you well at all. Or maybe it was that you’d just grown even more infatuated with her since you last saw her. After all, what was that saying? Time makes the heart grow fonder? You’d forgotten just how brilliantly the gold of her eyes shined. Her lips, well the blood red shade had been scorched upon your mind, but you’d forgotten just how full they were, how utterly alluring they were. A true goddess amongst mere mortals and you’d been given the privilege to be graced with her presence. Worries be damned! Who cared if you made a complete fool of yourself tonight and ended up in the cellar? You could die happy now that you’d seen her. 

The clinking of cutlery drew you from your thoughts and you looked up to find that while you’d been lost in your daydreams, the Lady had already taken her seat and the first course had been served. You had to pay more attention! This was your one chance to make yourself useful to the Lady directly, and you could not disappoint her. As such, you resolved to watch their wine glasses like a hawk, which soon proved to be a mistake. 

Eyes glued to Lady Dimitrescu’s elegantly gloved hand, you followed her fingers as they slowly wrapped around the curvature of her glass before bringing it to her lips. Her full, delicious, utterly kissable lips. God you could drown in them. Wrapping her lips around the rim of the glass, you closed your eyes and took a moment to sear the sight on your memory, imagining it was your lips that she was meeting and drinking in. 

In your mind’s eye, her hands encased your own body similar to the way that they held the glass, elegant yet firm. They traced up the curve of your hips before ghosting over the tops of your breasts, the pressure just enough to awaken every nerve ending in your body and leave you yearning for more. Heat bloomed in your belly, desire pooling between your legs, as you became pliant to her whims, eagerly ready to accept whatever she was willing to give. When her hands arrived at your face, her index finger slipped under your chin to tilt your face up where you at last met her burning golden eyes. She thumbed your bottom lip, smiling slyly at how easily you had become a muddled mess beneath her. She regarded you for but a moment, raking her eyes over your body appreciatively, as she basked in your needy state. At last though, she leaned down, breath fanning hot against your face before her lips enclosed your own. She tasted of lipstick, wine, and the faintest hint of blood, and you loved it. You dove into her, and she chuckled at your eagerness against your lips, yet readily acquiesced. The kiss deepened, her tongue breeching past your lips to entangle with your own while her fingers danced lower and lower until finally they — 

A loud laugh from one of the girls startled you from your fantasy. Opening your eyes again, you dragged them once more to settle over your lady’s gorgeous face only to stiffen in shock when her golden gaze met your own. It was like a bucket of cold water had been drenched over you, dowsing the lust filled haze you had seen no way out of mere moments ago. You had been caught! And caught looking right at her face too! How could you have allowed yourself to get so carried away and be so insubordinate? She was more than just a pretty face for you to drool over. She was your mistress and deserved such respect. Face burning in humiliation, you quickly cast your eyes downward and stepped back further into the shadows, vowing to never be so disrespectful again. 

________

Lowering her wine glass, Lady Dimitrescu opened her eyes only to be met with the awe-filled look of one the servants standing in the corner of the room. Upon catching her eye, the maiden immediately stiffened, face flushing in mortification as she quickly averted her gaze before retreating into the shadows. How strange. Lady Dimitrescu had never seen anyone react like that to her presence before. The maiden wasn’t one she recognized, so perhaps she was new? Not quite accustomed to the castle. Either way, it was certainly a peculiar reaction.

As much as the staff would like to believe her blind, Lady Dimitrescu was no fool. She knew they perceived her to be a monster for snuffing out the lives of so many in order to maintain her own. Lingering behind the tight lipped smiles and polite nods of her staff, Lady Dimitrescu had learned to spot many emotions. Fear, hatred, disgust...those were the feelings she was used to seeing but adoration ? Now that was certainly new. 

Subtly glancing over in the direction of the girl, Lady Dimitrescu noted she still remained in the darkness and couldn’t help smirking over the rim of her wine glass. She could run, but she couldn’t hide. Though she couldn’t see her, the rapid hammering of the girl’s heart betrayed her flustered state as clear as day. Her increased blood flow only strengthened her sweet, heady scent that Lady Dimitrescu now briefly noted was tinged with the tang of arousal, proof of the maiden’s feelings toward her. 

The question now was what to do? A discovery such as this couldn’t be left alone. Not when it had the potential to be such fun. Mulling over her options, Lady Dimitrescu wrapped her hand around her wine glass and slowly lifted it up before inclining it in the direction of the maiden, an unspoken cue for a refill. For many moments, she remained hidden in the shadows, causing Lady Dimitrescu’s irritation to spark, before the maiden was unceremoniously shoved out by a fellow maid, her cheeks still flushed as the flask trembled slightly within her hands. Ah so that’s what it was. She’d forgive her this time. After all, her newest pet must be very flustered. As the maiden began to inch toward her, unwilling to lift her head to even look in her direction, Lady Dimitrescu let out another smirk. Oh yes, this would prove to be very entertaining indeed. 

______

Hidden in the shadows, you were sure your face would remain forever twisted in its current position. She had seen you! The mistress of the castle had caught you red-handed openly staring at her like some besotted idiot. Not to mention it was the first real interaction you’d ever had with her and you just went and blew it. What an absolute great first impression you thought bitterly. How would you ever recover from this? Could you ever recover from this? Well, you at least had to try.

Nervously lifting your head, you breathed out a sigh of relief at the fact that she was no longer looking directly at you, just in your general direction. And she didn’t seem mad, yet another relief, just thoughtful. A look of contemplative reflection shone on her face as she gently tilted her glass in your direction. At the movement, you zeroed in on the glass, scrambling for why it tickled your brain. That gesture was supposed to mean something, wasn’t it? What was it again? 

A harsh shove from a nearby maid abruptly pulled you from your thoughts, causing the flask in your hand to jostle precariously. Sparking in indignation, you whirled around, prepared to give the girl a piece of your mind when you stopped short at the look on her face. Gesturing wildly at the flask, you followed her hand to look at the general direction of the table, zeroing in once again on the glass. The glass tilted ever so slightly to inform you that your mistress was in need of a refill. Oh so that’s what it was. Mouth growing dry, you could do no more than stare dumbly at it, at the glass that would surely spell your doom, for a few moments. While the look could be passed off as a mistake, there was no denying that this was a tangible one. To keep the Lady waiting, well you were certain that others had died for far less. And now you were keeping her waiting even longer, too caught up in your numb shock to even move.

As though the maid could sense your frozen state, she gave you another light push, causing you to stumble, which jumpstarted you into action. Tentatively shuffling forward, you found that each step was like trying to walk through quickly drying concrete. It became harder and harder to move. Harder and harder to breathe. How would she do it? Quietly order you to the cellars to ensure the peace of the meal remained intact? Or would she unleash the mighty claws that you’d only heard rumors about and slay you right where you stood, letting her daughters feast upon your flesh while it was still fresh and warm?

Arriving at her side, you audibly gulped as you lifted the flask toward her glass, your saliva sliding around the lump in your throat in an absolutely nauseating way. However, you were not met with harsh orders or claws. Your mistress merely sat there, allowing you to do your job and ignoring your presence entirely. If she saw the tremble in your arms, she didn’t say anything. 

Stepping away, you turned to make your way back toward the shadows, when your eyes met once more causing you to stiffen as your fears came rushing back. Though much to your relief, she said no more than “Thank you darling.” before turning back to continue the conversation with her daughters.

In your haste back to the safety of the shadows, you missed the hint of a smirk that remained spread across her face. 

As you followed the crowd out of the stadium, you couldn’t help but let your shoulders sag in relief. You’d made it through the first half of the day. And if you were being honest, the day had actually been sort of fun so far. Excluding the very beginning of it, of course. Walking into the stadium that morning saw you more high-strung than you’d ever been in your entire life. Heart pounding, your eyes had manically flitted every which way, expecting him to jump out at any second. Breath coming in short bursts you’d drawn the attention of more than a few strangers, worsening your already shot nerves. Suffice to say, you missed the entire opening ceremony, too wrapped up in trying to get ahold of yourself.

But as the first event started, you couldn’t help but become enraptured by the skill displayed by the students. Their raw power combined with their ability to quickly adapt to any obstacle made for an incredible show. Without even noticing, your breath had evened out and your shoulders had relaxed as with every minute that passed your anxiety faded away, consumed by an invested eagerness to see who would place first. You still couldn’t believe the stunt that the winner (Midoriya? Was that his name?) had pulled at the end! Using the mines to his advantage! You could tell he was going to become a great hero one day.

Stepping out of the shadowed tunnel, the sun greeted you enthusiastically, shining so brilliantly your vision was momentarily lost in a sea of white light. Eyes burning, you quickly threw a hand up to shield your face, blinking rapidly to adjust to the new brightness. As color slowly seeped back into your line of sight, the veil of white light was lifted to reveal a bustling spring day.

Thousands of people crowded the streets, pouring out from the entrances leading to each grade’s stadium, and they were eager for lunch. An array of multicolored stalls waited for them, each fighting to stand out the most. Excited vendors advertised their wares, urging the hungry guests towards them. And despite the forte of white noise coming from the crowd of thousands, their shouts still managed to ring clear as day. That, mixed with the sounds of sizzling food and the clanging of cookware, all managed to cultivate an atmosphere of festivity. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so lighthearted! Could the day get any better?

Taking a deep breath, a mouthwatering mixture of aromas flooded your nose, causing your stomach to growl. You didn’t know what to try first! Everything smelled so delicious it was overwhelming. But as you took another whiff, you realized there was one scent that stood out above the rest. It smelled so heavenly your stomach immediately let out another grumble, an unspoken command to find whatever it was immediately. And well, who were you to disobey?

Feet beginning to move of their own accord, you soon got swept up in the wave of people, and despite your determination to find the dish belonging to the mysterious scent, you let the wave carry you wherever it pleased. Bouncing from stall to stall, you made many detours, indulging in little mini-appetizers on the way to your mystery meal. It was just too hard to resist when they were sitting at the edge of the stall, the wisps of steam rising from the food seeming to beckon towards you.

But you could tell you were getting closer as the puzzling scent was growing stronger with every step. Licking the excess food from your latest snack off your fingers, you tossed the trash into a nearby bin. Pausing briefly, you closed your eyes to take another whiff, reorienting yourself. ‘There, slightly to the left.’ You thought, zeroing in on your mystery dish. Eyes opening, you began to scan the stalls to your left, trying to decide which vendor to approach first, when you caught a flash of blonde hair towering over the crowd.

At once, all thoughts of food came to a screeching halt. Eyes now glued to the back of the stranger’s head, you realized with sickening dread that you recognized that mop of blonde hair. After all, it’d been on your mind for an entire year. Please no. Not here. Not now. This can’t be happening. Mouth going dry, the sights of the festival, so welcoming mere moments ago, transformed into a sinister beast as anxiety began to overtake you. The smells wafting through the air, once so delectable, had turned rancid, stinging your nostrils. Every inhale sent waves of nausea rolling through your stomach. Coupled with your panic, the knots only twisted tighter, painfully so. And god, the people. So many people, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. They were closing in on you, trying to trap you so you couldn’t escape. So you’d have to face him.  

You needed to move. Now, before he turned around. But you found that you couldn’t. Your legs were rooted to the spot, leaving you helpless to do anything but watch as his body slowly began to shift in your direction, sealing your fate. In no time at all, you got your first glimpse of Toshinori in a year, and it hit you like a punch to the gut. Breath catching in your throat, tears sprung to your eyes as you caught sight of those burning blue eyes. They hadn’t seen you yet, but they would. Any second now. At a standstill in a moving crowd, you had no doubt you stuck out like a sore thumb. Your assumptions were proven correct as he began to lazily scan across the crowd, gaze almost immediately landing on you.

Eyes locking with his, you had just enough time to catch his own widening in shock before your vision blurred over completely from tears. In that moment, you realized with striking clarity that a year wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. You weren’t ready to face him, and you honestly didn’t think you’d ever be.

Despite everything though, all you could think about was how much you missed him. You didn’t even know how deeply until now. You needed him like you needed air. You just hadn’t known until today. Until that life line was dangling in front of you once more, so close yet somehow always just out of your reach, cruelly reminding you you’d been deprived of it for an entire year.

You couldn’t do this. Not here. You needed to get away. Now.

Eyes frantically flitting around the crowd, you searched for an escape, but swarms of people surrounded you on all sides. Had there always been so many? There was no way out. No matter where you turned, all you could see was an endless sea of bodies working to make sure you drowned in their depths.  

Chancing a glance back toward Toshinori, your eyes widened in horror. Oh god, had he moved closer? It was too much. Your chest felt tight. Too tight. Something was missing but you didn’t know what. Air. That’s what it was. You needed to breathe, but you’d forgotten how.

Watching as Toshinori pushed his way through the crowd sent your panic skyrocketing, jumpstarting you into action. Losing all sense of propriety, you began to shove your way through the mass of people, ignoring the angry trail of protests that erupted behind you. Yet you barely heard them. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered so long as you got away.

Bursting out of the suffocating throng, the streets were revealed to be relatively clear as no more than a few stragglers making their way to the bulk of the crowd behind you lined the road. Taking advantage of it, your sluggish steps morphed into a full on sprint, feet pounding into the concrete. The world melted into a blur as tears flowed freely from your eyes, the wind greedily snatching them from your face. Fisting a hand over your mouth, you stifled a sob, a stray hiccup escaping as you gasped for air. Everything hurt. Your legs and chest burned, begging for a reprieve, but it was nothing compared to the pain in your heart. Your physical burdens faded away, crushed under the memory of him. With each step, you could feel yourself spiraling further into the recesses of your mind, his words from your last encounter rushing through your head to pierce your broken heart once more.

‘I think we should stop seeing each other’

‘You’ll be better off without me’

‘I’m sorry’

Thoughts swirling around Toshinori, your emotions bubbled up inside, becoming too much to bear. The sob you had been trying so hard to hold in finally broke free, bringing the last of your walls down. You had no concept of time, where you were, of anything. All you could think about was him.

You ran well past your limits, pushing through your body’s pleas to stop, but eventually, it became too much to ignore. Legs turning shaky, you stumbled over your feet, just barely managing to catch yourself. The extent of your exhaustion finally caught up with you, your body becoming so weak and head spinning so fast you had to lean against the nearby wall for support. You grasped your abdomen, trying to calm the stitch gnawing at your side. But just as it abated, your stomach lurched, the food you’d so carelessly stuffed down threatening to come back up. Bending over, you violently heaved, drops of saliva dripping into the dirt beneath your feet. Tears of a completely different kind stung your eyes as you fought to get it under control. Heaves turned into vicious coughs before finally diminishing into breathless pants.

Somewhat recovered, you began to pull yourself upright, palms digging into the rough concrete of the wall behind you for leverage. When your feet were finally stable once more, you leaned back against the wall, letting it take the brunt of your weight. With the world in focus again, you finally took a moment to survey your surroundings.

You were alone. Completely alone. In fact, you were so far removed from the festival now that you couldn’t hear any of the chaos. But you could tell that you were still on the school grounds. If you had to guess, you figured that you’d moved into an inner part of the grounds. However, you found that you didn’t really care where you were as it seemed that you’d achieved your goal. With no one else in sight, it was clear you’d lost Toshinori in the crowd.

Letting out a sigh, you tilted your head up and closed your eyes. Five minutes. You just needed five minutes to compose yourself. Even though your sobs had quieted, the steady stream of tears pouring down your cheeks showed no signs of letting up. If the world could just give you five minutes, then maybe by then you’d gain the strength to at least pretend you were okay.

God, how had such a nice day gone to complete and utter shit so quickly? All because he showed up. Well at least that’s what you’d like to say. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t completely true. After all, you were the one who let him get to you. If the past thirty minutes were anything to go off of, it was obvious Toshinori still held a lot of power over you, and a small part of yourself hated you for giving it to him so freely.

Growling in frustration, you dug your palms into your eyes in an attempt to forcibly stop the tears streaming from them. It was stupid. So fucking stupid. You’d think that after a year, your heart would get the message. But no, it just had to keep pining for that goddamn bastard.  

Grinding your teeth together, your tears finally began to abate. ‘Fucking finally.’ You thought. Now you could go back to the festival. You were sure that the lunch break was over by now. And the best part? You wouldn’t even have to pretend. Your sorrow had boiled into a slow simmering anger which was much more manageable. Give it another hour and you were sure you’d be back to normal, provided no more mishaps occurred.

Taking one last deep breath, you opened your eyes as you let it out, only to jump back in fright. Where a large open field had once lined your vision, all that greeted you now were swaths of shadows. And you knew of only one person tall enough to so wholly block the light. You didn’t even have to look. You could feel that it was him. Taking but a moment to gather yourself, you closed your eyes again, exhaling harshly through your nose.

After steeling yourself, you opened your eyes once more, dragging them up the length of his body to lock with his bright blue ones. For the first time in a year, you found yourself face to face with Toshinori. Surprisingly though, your heart didn’t lurch the way you thought it would have, begging you to embrace him. Perhaps you’d cried all you could for the day because your anger held steady. You didn’t question it too much. Whatever the reason, you were grateful for it because it gave you the strength to face him. You just hoped it would last until the end of whatever was to come.

Staring at each other, you waited for Toshinori to say something, but the look in his eyes hinted that he was somewhere very far away. Fine, you’d be the one to bite the bullet. The faster this started, the sooner you’d be able to leave. “Hello Toshinori.” You greeted dryly.

The sound of your voice seemed to drag him from his thoughts, the fog behind his gaze clearing as he shook his head to push away the remnants of his daze. “Hello (Y/N).” He said, bowing his head down to look at you better.

Taking a moment to gather himself, he gulped, causing his Adam's apple to bob up and down slightly. Bringing his hands in front of him, he clasped them together as his eyes slid slightly to the left of you to focus on the wall. “How have you been?” He asked.

At his casual question, your anger sparked. After everything you’d been through, he seriously opened with that? Talking to you as though nothing had happened? As though you were no more than old friends greeting each other?

“How have I been? ” You repeated, fists clenching at your sides as you shook in anger, “How do you think I’ve been Toshinori?”

Realizing how inconsiderate his words were, Toshinori’s eyes widened as he quickly backtracked. “Wait! That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that!  I jus-I just wanted to talk to you!”

“You wanted to talk to me?” You said, mockingly raising your eyebrows, “You wanted to talk to me?”  

Face hardening, you scoffed, “Well guess what Toshinori, you don’t get to talk to me. You lost that privilege when you left me a year ago, breaking my heart into so many pieces I’m still trying to pick up all goddamn the parts today.”

Gritting your teeth, you rolled your eyes through half lidded eyes and let out an annoyed huff. “But you’re already here and we both know you’re not gonna leave until you say whatever it is you’ve come to say. So go on then. Say it. Tell me what it is that’s so goddamn important you needed to chase me all the way out here.” You said.

At your verbal assault, Toshinori seemed to shrink in on himself, eyes unsure. At his hesitation, you grew impatient, snarling, “Well c’mon then. I don’t have all day!”

Toshinori tried. He really tried. Opening his mouth, Toshinori attempted to speak but nothing came, causing him to wordlessly shut it. Sensing how hard it was for him, your anger marginally dissipated. Now much more subdued, you let out a sigh. “If you’re not gonna say anything, then just leave. We can both pretend this never happened.” You said.

You watched him carefully, but silence continued to fill the space between you. Despite that, Toshinori made no move to leave, causing your anger to flare once more. God, he followed you all this way, but wouldn’t even do anything? What a fucking waste of time and energy.

“Fine then. I’ll leave. Have a nice day Toshinori.” You said bitterly, beginning to maneuver around him.

“394.” Toshinori hoarsely said, his voice stopping you in your tracks. Eyes squinting in confusion, your torso leaned back around to resume your position against the wall, peering up at him. “What?” You asked.

Eyes lifting, Toshinori stared deep into your soul. “It’s been 394 days since we last met and not a single one has gone by where I don’t think of you.” He said, the earnest look in his eyes making it clear he meant every word.

Breath catching, your heart stuttered in your chest, his words dousing the flames of your anger with ice cold water. The sparks sputtered before ultimately sizzling out, leaving you raw and vulnerable once more. Tears sprung in your eyes, and you desperately tried to call the remnants of irritation back to hold it together. Your fists clenched, the wobble in them betraying your weakness as you choked out, “Don’t you dare do this to me Toshinori. You walked out on me. Not the other way around. You have no right, NO right, to stand there, claiming to still care about me. Not anymore.”

“I-I know.” Toshinori said, “But when I saw you, I wanted-no, needed -to tell you that leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t regret the decisions I made that night. Where I don’t regret hurting you. I-I thought I was doing what was best for you, that I was protecting you, but I only ended up causing the very pain I was trying to save you from. And I’m so sorry for it.” Taking a deep breath, a shudder ran through Toshinori’s body as he choked on a sob. Reaching a hand out, he made to clasp your cheek when he jolted, seeming to remember that things were different now, and let it fall lifelessly back to his side.

Straightening, Toshinori cleared his throat as he reined his emotions in, becoming composed again. Turning to look away, he continued quietly, “But you’re right. I made my choice, and now I have to live with it. I’m sorry for bothering you. Goodbye (Y/N).”

As he began to walk away, you could feel yourself becoming hollow once more. Because despite all the hurt and sadness that accompanied it, being in Toshinori’s presence had made you feel whole, something you hadn’t experienced in a year. The forgotten sensation was so foreign that you didn’t even recognize it until it was slipping from your grasp again, replaced by the aching familiarity of all encompassing loneliness. And in that moment, you craved nothing more than to regain that sense of completion. With it came the realization that you didn’t want Toshinori to go. It was the one clear truth that shined through the darkness. All you knew was that it couldn’t end like this. You refused to let it end like this. Not again.

Your hand reached out of its own accord to lightly grasp his own, fingertips just barely brushing against together, but it was enough to bring Toshinori to an abrupt halt. Eyes widening, he briefly glanced down to look at your entwined hands before turning back around to face you. Faced with his presence once more, the clarity you found mere moments ago disappeared, leaving only your doubts and insecurities. Head held to the ground, you whispered, “Why now?”

Clenching your jaw to stop the wobble in your lips, you looked up to meet his eyes. “Why now Toshinori? You know where I live,” You began. Face falling, your voice cracked. “If that’s how you really feel then why didn’t you ever come back?”

Tears pooled in your eyes that you stubbornly swiped away as you let out a sniffle. “Don’t you know I waited for you? So many nights spent dreaming you’d walk through my door to tell me what you just said. But you never did. So why now?”

Seeing your tears, Toshinori’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. “I-I couldn’t. You’ve always deserved someone better than me. I couldn’t be that selfish. I had no right to ask you to take me back.” He paused to give you a small, sad smile. “And despite what everyone thinks, I’m just a scared coward deep down. I couldn’t bear the thought of coming back only to lose you once more. But when I saw you in the crowd, something in me refused to idly stand by and let you slip away, at least not until you knew the truth. You deserved that much from me at least.”

When he finished, all you could do was stare in shock. Was this really happening? What were you supposed to do? Were you truly ready to bare your heart to him? Looking up at his pained face, the overwhelming urge to see him smile again gave you the strength you needed. Despite the internal war that swirled throughout your head, you knew that you at least needed to try.

Stepping forward, you stopped in front of him, hesitantly leaning your forehead against his chest. The only sounds to fill the air were your deep, shuddering breaths. “When are you gonna realize that all I’ve ever wanted is you Toshinori?” You whispered.

Toshinori’s breath caught in his throat. With your bodies so close together, you could hear his once steady heartbeat begin to race in his chest, the thumping staccato a harmony to the melody of your own pounding heart. Nothing was said for many moments. As Toshinori waited to see what you would do next, your mind was frantically trying to figure out what to do. It all came down to this. Did you part here to go your separate ways, or were you going to fight for the future you’d dreamt about a year ago?

Hands clenching around his shirt, your tears spilled over your cheeks to stain the thin material. Not having the courage to face him, you kept your head bowed, burrowing into his chest. “You hurt me. You really hurt me Toshinori. How do I know that I can trust you? How do I know you won’t just leave like before. I-I can’t go through this again. I need to know that you’ll stay this time.” You said softly.

Hesitantly, Toshinori began to reach his arms up to settle comfortingly on your back, going so slow it was as though he thought the slightest movement would cause you to disappear. But you didn’t. And as his palms laid flat, your body relaxed and let out a shudder at the contact. Drawing you close, he embraced you, leaning his head down to rest upon your hair.

“Right now, I know you don’t have any reason to trust what I’m about to say. I completely shattered your faith in me a year ago, and there’s nothing I can say that would truly encompass how sorry I am.” He murmured, so softly that if anyone else had been around you were sure you’d still be the only one to hear, “I won’t try to make excuses, but I can promise you this. If you just give me a chance (Y/N), I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove myself worthy of you. Because I love you, and I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

Breath hitching, you broke apart just enough to look up at him with wide eyes. “You-You love me?” You breathed out.

Giving you a bright smile, he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “I never stopped.” He whispered.

All you could do was stare at him in amazement. He really still loved you? Even after all this time? His words were like a salve to your aching heart, smearing away the pain and suffering of the past year to reveal the own love you held for him. While it wasn’t enough to completely undo the past, it was enough to grant you clarity. You loved him. Plain and simple. And you’d be damned if you let the past get in the way of the future.

“I-I..” You stuttered, feeling like a thousand cotton balls were stuffed in your mouth. But where words failed you, actions did not.

Face softening, your hands bunched tighter around the fabric of Toshinori’s shirt as you slightly tugged him down into a kiss. It started chaste, lips just barely pressing together, before suddenly morphing into a frenzy of need as a year of pent-up emotion demanded to be released. Your hands moved up from Toshinori’s shirt to tangle in his hair as you arched into him, rising up on your tiptoes, for a better angle. Desperate to deepen the kiss, you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip, begging for entrance. Toshinori willfully granted it, just as eager for your touch as you were for his. Tongues dancing together, Toshinori’s arms slid from where they were resting at the small of your back up to the base of your neck, his fingers curling into the roots of your hair. The only sounds to fill the air were the harsh sounds of your heaving breaths, yet you barely even heard as Toshinori’s touch overwhelmed your senses, making it impossible to register anything but him.

The touch, taste, and god even the smell of him, it was enough to make you dizzy. Yet you embraced it, gladly diving into the cesspool, your body craving more of him with every passing second. The embers of your love roared with renewed life, lighting you on fire. Every brush of fingertips across your skin sent jolts of heat racing to your core. The fabric of your panties grew damp with need, the scent of your arousal floating through the air to sting your nose. It was too much yet simultaneously not nearly enough. The feel of his lips was no longer enough to satiate you as your body yearned to feel him ever closer. You needed more.

Lungs burning for air, you pulled away for only the briefest of moments. Staying so close that the small string of saliva connecting your lips didn’t even break, the heat of each other’s exhales fanned over your faces as you both fought to catch your breath. Physically unable to stand being parted from him though, you quickly brought his lips to yours once more, just barely managing to breathily gasp out “I need you.” before they touched.

As you kissed him with renewed vigor, your body began to move of its own accord, desire taking control. Reaching down, your hands blindly fumbled with his pants, desperately trying to get them off. Without ever breaking, Toshinori slid his hands from where they were tangled in your hair to move gently down the length of your body where they came to rest around your hips. Hoisting you up, he stepped impossibly closer, sandwiching you against the wall in order to support you, forcing you to tilt your head down ever so slightly in order to keep your lips locked. The uneven concrete dug uncomfortably into your back, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to notice, drowning in the feel of Toshinori’s embrace.

Toshinori’s free hand traced a path up your thigh, snagging the hem of your dress along the way. Bared to him, he hooked his thumb around your panties, dragging them along the curve of your ass before releasing them and allowing gravity to take care of the rest. A finger trailed down to tease at your soaked entrance before easily slipping in to work you open.

Throwing your head back, you gasped at the sensation before it was cut off by a deep moan as he added another digit. Breathing heavily, you could begin to feel the coil build within you, winding tighter and tighter as he expertly turned your body into putty. It was clear he still remembered all of your weak spots.

All of a sudden though, his touch disappeared, causing you to whine loudly in protest, but it quickly died off as his fingers were replaced by the tip of his dick beginning to prod at your entrance. Before going further, he stopped for but a moment to peer into your eyes, looking for confirmation.

“Please Toshi. Don’t make me wait any longer.” You whimpered.

It was all he needed. Thrusting his hips forward, he buried himself in you, driven by a primal instinct after being starved of your touch for so long. Gasping at the sudden fullness, your legs tightened around him as you tugged on his hair for support, trying desperately to adjust to his girth. With Toshinori’s face buried in your neck, you could feel his hot, labored breaths fan against your skin as trembles wracked his body from the strain of holding back to give you the time you needed.

For a few moments, the world lay completely still, nothing but the sound of your mingled pants to fill the air. But as you slowly began to adjust to him, the slight sting from his sheer size fading away into the much more pleasurable sensation of feeling deliciously full, it soon became apparent that it wasn’t enough. A restless urge to bring Toshi closer, harder, deeper, began to consume you, and with a small lift of your hips, you signaled for him to move.

Body shuddering in relief, Toshinori pulled out slowly only to slam back into you, his movements drawing twin moans of pleasure from you both. While his strokes were languid at first, it didn’t last for long as his restraint slowly dissolved, a frenzy taking over his mind. Driven by a need to claim you, body, mind, and soul, he began to buck into you with wild abandon, the pace borderline brutal.

Yet you had no objections, as your own mind made similar demands of you. Meeting him thrust for thrust, you could feel sparks of pleasure dance through you with every movement, the coil inside you beginning to pull tight once more.

“So good. You feel so good. I’ve missed this. Missed you. Never letting you go again.” Toshinori groaned, leaning down to pepper your neck in hot open-mouthed kisses.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, you could do no more than let out an appreciative moan at his words. Leaning down to kiss him, it was clear that you were both on the edge of release as he started to jerk even faster into you, desperate to fall off the precipice. With one last thrust, Toshinori sank himself deep into you, shudders wracking your body as the coil inside you burst free and pleasure exploded behind your eyes, causing you to cry out. As your pussy clenched around him, Toshinori also came, sending thick, hot ropes of cum to coat the inside of you. Yet you barely even noticed, lost in the sea of white hot pleasure dancing along your spine. Hands blindly fumbling to grasp onto Toshinori’s shoulders, your body gave out, no longer able to support you as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm.

Slumping against the wall, Toshinori instantly brought his hands up to catch you, despite being in a similar state. As you slowly recovered, it became apparent that Toshinori was relying on you as much as you were him in order to remain upright. As he fought to regain control, his trembling limbs shook against your back, ragged pants echoing through the air.

When Toshinori finally reclaimed his strength, he slowly pulled out of you and began to carefully lower you to the ground, gravity causing your dress to fall back into place. Feet touching solid ground for the first time in several minutes, you stumbled at the familiar yet foreign feeling, struggling to find your balance. Yet Toshi immediately tightened the loose grip he had on you, snaking his arms around your belly to stop you from falling before gently guiding you back up. Only when it was clear that you could stand on your own did his grasp finally fall.

As Toshinori moved to stand a few feet away, you found that you could no longer look at him, the once intimate atmosphere quickly souring as uncertainty turned the air noticeably awkward. Eyes dragging down to stare at the ground, you contemplated what to do. No longer filled with the lust that had fueled your courage, the situation had once again become clouded as insecurities forced their way to the forefront of your mind. Where did you go from here? What did you really want? What did he really want? Had he really meant everything he said?

As the silence dragged on, it slowly turned suffocating, yet neither of you knew how to break it. Eventually though, it became too uncomfortable to ignore, and unable to stand it any longer, Toshinori cleared his throat. While quite a soft sound, it nevertheless drew your eyes back up to him. Somehow, you dimly noted, he’d been able to redress during those moments spent in silence.

Faced with your stare, Toshinori jolted slightly, hand reaching up to nervously rub at the back of his neck before he ultimately cast his eyes down at the ground, unable to hold your gaze. “I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured.

At his words, a wave of heat rushed into your face, cheeks burning. God, why in the world was this so embarrassing? Choosing your words carefully, you replied, “No, more of the opposite actually. It was quite ah... enjoyable.”

“That’s-That’s good.” He said, face turning ever so slightly red though he turned away to hide it. With that, Toshinori faded back into silence, clearly done with the conversation.

Another long period of stillness followed, until, finally, it was your turn to fill the emptiness. Your worries had been stewing ever since Toshinori had set you down on the ground, and now, they were bubbling over. You couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Did you really mean all those things you said?” You blurted out.

Startling, Toshinori turned back around to face you, wide eyes staring straight into yours. “Of course! I’d never lie to you about something like that.”

Shoulders slumping in relief, a heavy weight lifted off your chest. Deep down, you’d known he would never deceive you like that, but still, a part of you needed to hear him say it. It reassured you in a way your own mind never could. Now, there was truly nothing holding you back.

Taking a few steps towards him, you reached down to grasp his hand before bringing it to your lips, laying a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Tilting your head back, you peered up at him and gave him a small smile. “I-I think I’d like to give this- us another shot, if you’re willing Toshi. I don’t want to let you go, ever...because I love you too.”

Blue eyes wide in shock, Toshinori reached down to push a lock of hair behind your ear, letting his hand rest against your cheek in the spot it once covered. Tears welling in his eyes, he choked, “I’d like nothing more.”

And then, he leaned down to capture your lips in one more kiss. Only this time, there was no hunger to it. No carnal desire propelling him forward. It was gentle, sweet, and above all pure. A true expression of the love and adoration he felt for you.

When the need for air finally forced you to break apart, there was a slowness to it, both of you determined to savor every last moment of the kiss. When your lips separated, you remained close, foreheads pressed together with matching grins adorning both your faces.

The sweet silence spent basking in each other’s presence was only disturbed by an uproar of cheers from the distance, a gentle reminder that there was, in fact, a purpose for both of you being at the festival. Letting out a sigh, Toshinori murmured, “The closing ceremony will be starting soon. We should probably head back.”

Despite his words though, neither of you made any motion to leave. In fact, you ignored the sounds of the festival altogether, not even sparing a glance in its direction as you were both unwilling to part from one another.

“You know, the only reason I’m here is because I’m supposed to be covering the festival.” You said, releasing a tiny laugh at the irony.

Bringing a hand up to gently rest against his cheek, you let your eyes flutter close before continuing, “But right now, I want nothing more than to stay right here. I wish I could stay here with you forever.”

Reciprocating your gesture, Toshinori let his hands come up to cup your face, saying “I know. I feel the exact same.”

Allowing himself just a few moments more, Toshinori released a deep breath before pulling away from you with great effort, if only to ensure he didn’t give in to the urge to lose himself in you once more. Giving you a wistful glance, he said, “As much as it pains me to say, there’s no way I’ll be able to escape my duties for the closing ceremony. Everyone’s expecting me.”

As much as you knew it shouldn’t have, you couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that crashed over you at his words. Everything was still so new, so fresh, so fragile. There was so much to talk about, and though both of you had responsibilities to fill, the thought of being away from him brought that familiar sense of loneliness flooding over you. Who knew when you’d both be free next?

“However,” Toshinori continued, turning slightly bashful which caused your head to perk up, “My schedule is free once the festival is over. That is to say, would you want to...go to dinner? Together? Of course, you don’t have to! Don’t feel obligated-”

Face softening at his flustered state, you grasped his hand causing him to stop short before he could become even more distracted. Giving him a small smile, you reassured him saying, “I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

Brightening considerably, Toshinori flashed a grin that beamed brighter than the sun, enthusiastically stating, “Great! I’ll come find you once the festival is over, so don’t worry about trying to navigate through the crowds.”

As you stared up at him, happiness radiating from you, Toshinori couldn’t resist leaning down to give you one last gentle kiss. Pulling away, he inclined his head in the general direction of the arena and tugged on your hand saying, “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”