#a dancer

Cautiously, you looked down. The swell of your womb was far more than you had ever seen on a woman before. Your stomach lurched at the sight. You watched, horrified as your womb clamped down once more. It only made you whimper. Nothing had changed. You had been like this for hours. Your womb was still carefully insulating the creature.

You huffed. Lying down clearly wasn’t helping you. You rolled onto your side. A sigh left you as the weight settled onto the bed. With some effort, you managed to prop yourself up so you were kneeling on the bed. You were forced to spread your legs in order to make room for your belly. The curve brushed against the bedsheets as you tried to get comfortable. You pulled your nightgown over the swell. It didn’t help much. Your pregnancy was still obvious. The fabric was taut over your belly. You refused to touch it. You didn’t want to give the creature any sort of comfort.

Slowly, the pain lessened. You found yourself breathing normally again. Sweat was beading on your nape. The air felt cold on your skin. It wouldn’t last long. You needed to move, or at least find a position more comfortable. Then, you would be able to worry about running away. Everyone would be so busy with the baby that you would finally be able to escape.

You carefully shifted toward one side of the bed, only to feel something different. It made you yelp, but not out of pain. You went still. Had it kicked somewhere it hadn’t before? Had it moved?

Warm wetness trickled between your thighs. You froze. With shaking hands, you reached underneath your nightgown and between your legs. The bedding was damp, but growing wetter. Your fingers lifted, stroking yourself. You ignored how the simplest touch made your back arch. You were more concerned with the same wetness. You withdrew your fingers, then moved your hand so you could look at it. The faint tinge of red was unmistakable. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Blood.

With adrenaline coursing through you, you got up from the bed. Turning to the sheets, there was a pinkish stain where you had been kneeling. You hurriedly bundled it all up. The man that had done this to you wasn’t human. He drank your blood like it was wine. He had tracked you down when you had tried to escape. If his sense of smell was sharp enough, he would know what was going on and seek you out. You were fortunate enough that your room was in a different wing. Maybe you would have some time to stop the smell of iron from reaching him.

You hurried into the bathroom. You started the water and dumped the sheets in. It wouldn’t be enough. Where had you put that incense the midwife had left you? You looked over all of the bottles on the counter. It wasn’t there. You turned to search the bedroom, only to double over in pain. You grabbed the doorframe in an attempt to keep upright. More fluid dripped down your thighs. Your knees buckled as a weight pressed against your cervix. You crossed the room. That little tin had to be somewh-

Something in the corner of your vision made you freeze. You turned to the window. The clouds had darkened the night sky. The rain obscured everything except the white marble balcony. Something was off. The balcony looked strange, like pieces had broken off and fallen to the courtyard below.

The weight of eyes on you made everything click into place. He had transformed into his true self and was standing on the balcony. You needed to run.

The crunching of metal stopped you. The knob of the glass doors turned. The inside handle fell to the ground with a clatter. You staggered back. Your legs hit the bed. You didn’t have enough time to crawl over it.

He stepped inside, fur dripping with rainwater. His eyes almost glowed as they remained focused on you. “What happened?”

You said nothing. You weren’t going to explain it to him. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. And yet, you couldn’t help but glance toward the bathroom. “I slipped,” you lied. You prayed that another contraction wouldn’t make your voice break. You pointed to your thigh. “I scratched myself by accident. It’s nothing.”

He moved closer to you. He towered over you in this form. “Show me this cut, then.”

You tensed. He knew that you were lying, and was now trying to catch you in it. “I-It’s…” Your jaw clenched as your lower back began to ache once more. You forced your back to stay straight, even though you wanted to sink to the floor. “I told you that it’s nothing.”

“My heir is not nothing,” he snapped. He stalked across the room until he was standing in front of you. Without any space to stay balanced, you fell back against the bed. The mattress was soft, but the weight of your womb on top of you in addition to the contraction made you groan. His ears swiveled. He bared his teeth and his tongue snaked out to trace over the sharp edges. He could smell the iron, even if you couldn’t. “I didn’t think you would be so disobedient. You know better than to hide this from me.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but it was interrupt by a gasp as his clawed hands slipped beneath your thighs. With his fingers curled around the backs of your knees, he wasted no time in lifting your legs. The nightgown slipped upwards. The skirt fell into a pile beneath your belly. You squirmed as he pushed your legs open. He had to spread them even further to accommodate for your belly. You gripped the fabric beneath you. Your face burned with shame. Your chest burned with hatred. “Stop it. Let…Let go of me.”

His grip tightened on your thighs. “No. Tonight is the night you give me an heir. I’m not letting you out of my sight. I want to see you give birth to my son.”

You reached down, trying to pry his hands off, but his body felt like iron. He was impossible to move. Fighting quickly exhausted you. Hot tears spilled from the corners of your eyes and into your hair. He talked about the thing inside of you like it wasn’t a monster. You didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t say that.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s the truth. The child inside of you is mine. He will be my successor. My firstborn son.”

Your hands fell to your sides. You were too weak. The pain was taking a toll. “You…don’t know that.”

“That it’s a boy?” He laughed. A low, rumbling noise. “I can sense it. He’s a rough little thing. He kicks because he wants attention. He squirms because he wants to be held properly. He’s only been so persistent because you refuse to acknowledge him.” He moved your nightgown further up, revealing soft skin rounded with his child. He smoothed his palm over your belly. The pain didn’t stop, but the fluttering did. “When he’s born, you’ve love him, as you should.”

“Shut up!” you shrieked. “You promised me that I only had to give you an heir. Nothing more. I didn’t-“

“Enough!” His wings flared behind him. His claws dug into your thighs. “I made no such promise. You’re not a broodmare to be discarded. You’re the mother of my children. Your role doesn’t end when he’s born. You’ll feed him. Care for him. A child flourishes with their mother. I won’t settle for anything less when it comes to my son.”

Your tears kept falling. The pain was becoming too much. Your entrance throbbed, unsatisfied with its emptiness. Your fingers curled. Your nails dug into the fabric to the point that you could feel them stinging your palms. You cried out in frustration. Your own body knew the process. It wanted to give birth. It was you to push and deliver the child he wanted so badly. You fought against that urge. Your body betrayed you, clamping down on its own accord. The ache worsened. It wanted him to take you again. To fill you with another child. You covered your face. You couldn’t do this. You don’t want to.

The bedroom doors were thrown open. Several sets of footsteps hurried inside. You knew that one of them is the midwife. He must have called for them the moment he smelled your blood. They were human, so they had taken longer to get to your room. The man lowered your legs, then released them. You quickly closed them before anyone else could pry them apart.

“Alright, girls, pull her further up onto the bed and get some pillows underneath her head and shoulders.” The midwife’s orders were rattled off one by one. The maids did as they were told, grabbing you by the arms and haul you into the middle of the bed.

You tried to pull away from them, but didn’t have the strength. It didn’t take them long to prop you up and position themselves on either side of you. With your upper body elevated, you could see the midwife move to stand in front of you. The man had returned to his human form. When she tried to spread your legs, you kicked at her. “Don’t…Don’t touch me…”

The midwife shot you a look, then turned to the master of the house. “We’ll take it from here, Sir. I’ll have one of the girls fetch you when everything is cleaned up.”

“No. I’ll stay right here. I want to see my son come into this world.”

You wished that you had the energy to get up and strangle him for watching, but you could only cry in protest as the two maids helped to pull your legs up and apart once more. You whimpered as she slipped her fingers into your entrance. The pain still hadn’t stopped. You couldn’t remember the last time it had given you a break.

“Well, you won’t have to wait long,” the midwife replied as she withdrew her hand. She looked up at you. “You need to push.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to obey them. You didn’t want to give birth to a monster.

“Listen to me, girl. If you don’t help it along, you’ll be here for hours. You’ll still have a baby at the end of it. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I won’t…” Your vision swam. “It’s not- I can’t-“ You stiffened as she pressed her hand against the side of your belly. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it surprised you enough that you bared down for a moment. The creature slipped further down, then stopped. You shut your eyes. Your cervix was stretched around it. It was too big. You wouldn’t be able to move it again.

And yet, the urge resurfaced. You held your breath and gritted your teeth as you begrudgingly obeyed your body.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl.” The midwife gently spurred you on. “Good, now take a break.”

You didn’t listen. You kept going. You wanted it out. You didn’t want to carry it inside of you anymore. You didn’t want it to cause you anymore pain.

“Stop. Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself. That’s enough-”

“Move,” the man’s voice thundered through the room. The maid on your right scurried off of the bed. Another, larger hand grabbed your leg before it could fall. “Relax, pet.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Your lungs burned. You knew that you would lose consciousness, but you didn’t care. You fought against that innate desire to survive. It didn’t take long for it to overpower you. You fell back against the pillows. You gasped for air. Sweat made your hair cling to your face. You stared up at the ceiling. You wished that you would die.

The man leaned over you. You glanced to him. The fear of losing your autonomy filled you, but nothing changed. He wasn’t using his power. He was just watching you. The fingers of his free hand brushed your hair from your face. The hand holding your thigh loosened. His thumb rubbed back and forth over your skin. You swallowed. Despite everything, such little things brought you comfort. Your body sank further into the pillows.

“Slow down.” His voice was a softer now that he had taken his human form, but that familiar rumble was still there. “There’s no need to rush. I can’t lose you now.”

Your expression faltered. You didn’t understand. You didn’t have time to ask about it. The urge to push overwhelmed you. The creature moved further and further. You fell back again, panting.

“Almost done. I can see the baby’s head.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. You could only wish that she would stop calling it a baby. It wasn’t a child. It wasn’t human. However long this took, it wouldn’t be enough for you to accept it as yours.

With the next contraction, however, your situation became all too clear. The head pressed at your entrance. It edged further and further out until the midwife slipped her fingers between the head and your walls to ease you open even further. It was almost there. It was almost born. You covered your face again as she laid towels down. You didn’t want to look.

The head pushed through. Your legs twitched as the body followed. All at once, you felt empty and cold.

“There we go.” The midwife began to clean it off with a towel. The light colour of the fabric quickly darkened with blood. The man’s grip on your leg tightened. You couldn’t tell if it was from the smell of iron or the realization that he had gotten what he wanted.

You hesitated. There was no noise. Wasn’t it supposed to cry? You kept your eyes covered, waiting for something to break the growing silence.

A hiccup. Then a squeak. The high pitch noise slowly turned into short, uneven screeches.

“A healthy baby boy. Congratulations, sir.”

Your leg was lowered. The bed shifted. “Let me see him.”

You peeked through your fingers. All you could see was a tiny bundle being passed to the man. He held it as if it was priceless. As if it would break with the slightest strength. It kept crying, though it was softer now.

“Alright, let’s finish up.” The midwife patted your leg. The second maid resumed her position.

When everything was said and done, you were given a new nightgown and laid properly on the bed. The maids took everything out of the room, either to be cleaned or destroyed.

Mustering what little strength you had left, you sat up. You jumped a bit when you saw that the midwife was still standing next to you. She was quiet for a moment. She smoothed your hair down and readjusted the pillows so you could stay upright. You weren’t sure why she had suddenly become so kind. Maybe it was because you had proven your usefulness to her master.

“You should get some rest, if you can. I’ll be by again shortly to help you feed him.”

You said nothing. You didn’t want to feed it. You didn’t want to see what it looked like.

The midwife hesitated. You could tell that she was annoyed with your silent refusal, but she couldn’t say anything about it. She stepped away from you. She whispered something to the man that you couldn’t hear before taking her leave.

You stared at your lap. It felt strange to have it gone, to have no weight cradled by your thighs. Your attention shifted to the man. He was standing by the glass doors that led to the balcony. He was murmuring something in a language you didn’t recognize. It was probably old, one that only his kind knew.

You looked away when he turned around. You heard his footsteps grow closer.

“You did so well, my darling.” He laughed as the creature began to cry harder. “But it seems he likes you more than me.”

You stiffened as the bundle of fabric came into view and was placed in your arms. You only accepted out of instinct, not wanting to drop it. You made the mistake of looking. It looked like a small version of the man in his true form. Dark, slightly damp fur. Ears that swiveled as it tried to understand where it was. Little legs and webbed wings that wriggled underneath the blanket. It didn’t have any claws. You supposed that those would grow in. Its dark eyes were watery, narrowed and blinking as it adjusted to being out in the air. Then, it looked up at you, eyes wide. It stopped crying and relaxed in your arms. It was comforted by your presence. It knew that it was safe.

You didn’t realize that you were crying until the tears fell from your jaw and darkened the blanket. You didn’t know what you were feeling. Regret? Frustration? Instinctual love? The warmth in your chest was so foreign that, for a moment, you feared that you were dying.

The man pressed a kiss to your temple. His lips brushed over your cheek. “You’ve given me something so wonderful. Our firstborn son.”

You swallowed. Firstborn. That implied more. That dreadful thought was cut short by the creature moving its head. Its snout pressed into your breast. It whined softly. You reluctantly pulled the neck of your nightgown to one side. It latched on immediately. You groaned at the feeling. Relief mixed with discomfort. It suckled hungrily. One wing wrestled out of the blanket and draped over your breast.

The man tilted your chin up and ensnared you in a kiss.

Several moons had passed. The baby had grown bigger and heavier. He thrived in your presence. The midwife had tried to introduce a wet nurse, but he had started crying and reached out for you the moment he was placed in the wet nurse’s arms. There were times where he would only sleep in your arms, and you ended up falling asleep while leaning back against the headboard. Slowly but surely, the baby was beginning to garner your affection. You spoke to him sometimes. Usually it was to softly scold him for being so fussy. He merely nestled himself further into the crook of your arm and chirped happily.

Today, you were standing as he fed. The man had insisted that you both be moved so you would be closer to him. You stayed with him in the master bedroom. The smaller room you stood in, which was connected through a curtained doorway, acted as the nursery. The man had fallen back asleep. It was still early in the morning. He had explained earlier that his kind didn’t really need rest the same way humans did, but he had wanted to lie next to you while you rested.

You huffed as you adjusted your arm. It was beginning to get sore after holding the baby for so long. “You’re getting heavy,” you whispered. “I won’t be able to carry you for much longer.”

He jolted, unlatching himself from your breast. He stared up at you, eyes wide. He whined softly. Even though the baby couldn’t speak just yet, it understood you perfectly. You didn’t know if it was just something his kind was capable of or if it was simply the connection between a mother and her child. His little tongue licked up the milk that dribbled down his snout. The softness of his wings brushed over your chest as he reached up toward you. It keened again.

You sighed. “You can’t starve yourself just so I can keep holding you.” You padded over to the chair in the corner and sat down. You switched him to your other arm. “There. Go ahead.”

He blinked. He leaned forward, his mouth open. The sight of teeth flickered before he latched on once more. You let out a small cry of pain and surprise as his teeth sank into your skin. Your arm tightened around the baby, eyes shut as you waited for the pain to subside. He continued to suckle greedily. The sound of his slurping and swallowing filled the air.

You let out a slow exhale. You had noticed his teeth growing in, but you didn’t think that he’d bite you. Your eyes slowly opened. You looked down, wondering how bad the damage was, only to freeze.

Eyes the same colour as yours stared up at you. Little tufts of hair, dark like his father’s, stuck up haphazardly. Human legs wriggled in the blanket. A tiny, human hand had replaced the wing on your chest. The baby, a human baby, smiled a bit. It was as if he was trying to ask if you were proud of him.

You held him closer to you. He was so small. So cute. So human. And yet your heart ached. He wasn’t human, not really. A small part of you was upset that he had changed in an effort to please you. Nothing would change the fact that he was your baby. Your thumb gently rubbed his cheek. Try as you might, you hadn’t been able to stop your instincts. You loved him dearly. He was half of you just as much as he was half monster.

You looked up to see the man brushing the curtain to one side. He must have smelled the blood. His hand gently smoothed over the baby’s hair. “I thought that he would have your hair.”

You remained quiet. You watched his expression as he leaned down to kiss his son’s forehead. He had changed in the time you had spent with him. He had been so cruel before. He had hypnotized you, impregnated you, and then stolen you away. You couldn’t remember the last time he had ensnared you in his gaze. It seemed so distant now. He apologized to you every so often, seeking your forgiveness for his treatment of you, but it was only when you were drifting toward sleep. When he thought that you wouldn’t quiet hear him. He still walked with the air of someone with immeasurable power. He was still a monster that only assumed the guise of a human. But there was something different about the way he looked at you, like a part of him was at ease when you were with him.

The man’s hand came to rest on the back of the chair before he kissed you. When he withdrew, his attention was once again focused on your son. He had stopped feeding, licking his lips. The man took him into his arms. “You’ve done so well, little one. We should reward you.”

You halfheartedly glared at him. You knew exactly what he was getting at.

“I would ask if you want a little brother or sister, but I already can already tell that it’s going to be a boy.” He set the baby down in his crib.

“You can’t possibly know that,” you replied as you got up from the chair. You examined your breast. There were small wounds, but they had already closed. It was probably why the baby had stopped eating. You adjusted your nightgown to cover yourself.

His arm wrapped around your waist. He lifted you with ease and carried you into the bedroom. Rather than lying you down on the bed, he sat down on the edge and placed you in his lap. Your hands moved to his shoulders. Straddling him like this reminded you of when you had still been a dancer.

He lifted your nightgown until it was bunched around your waist. “You’re so beautiful. Even more beautiful than the day we met.” He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours. “You’ll dance for me again, won’t you?”

It was in those moments that you hated him most. You were just a toy to him. Not an equal. Not even a person. A broodmare. Your grip tightened on the silver tray as you carried it. A servant opened the door for you. You could see the way her gaze lowered to the swell of your belly. You saw the way her mouth twitched. How her eyes narrowed. She was jealous. You would never understand why. You used to be a dancer. You used to have the perfect body. You used to be free. Now you were just a slave, filled to the brim with something that wasn’t even human. It sat low in your belly. It made your back ache. There were times that it felt left it was nestling right against your cervix, making your knees quiver and squirm. It was becoming more active. A flutter here. A press there. It was fidgeting now. Your hands were full. You couldn’t try to soothe it into submission. If that woman could take your place, you would gladly give it to her.

“You’re right on time, my dear,” he was sitting in his usual chair. One leg crossed over the other. By appearance alone, he looked human. But he wasn’t. It was just a mask. A way to slip through crowds and did as he pleased.

You didn’t say anything to him. You set the tray down on the table next to his chair. You put the finishing touches on his tea. A kick within your womb made you stiffen. You couldn’t swallow the tiny groan that escaped your lips. Your hand instinctively went to cover the spot.

“They’ve been restless lately, haven’t they?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t look at him.

“Pet,” it was a warning. He’d grab you by the jaw and make you look at him, if he had to.

“I suppose,” you finally spoke. You straightened, “Some days more than others.”

He lifted his leg so he was sitting normally. He patted his thigh, “Come here.”

You scowled. You looked away. You didn’t want to. You were already carrying his child. He didn’t have to take everything else from you, too, “Why?”

“You’ve been on your feet for a while. You must be tired. You deserve a bit of rest.”

It was a lie. It was always a lie. Concern was just a veil. Beneath it was the desire to take something you had. But you were too tired to refuse. You stepped toward him.

“Hike up your skirt,” the tips of his pointed teeth were visible as he spoke. His eyes were dark. He was hungry. For what, you couldn’t tell just yet.

You begrudgingly did as he said. The air hitting your legs and stomach brought a shiver down your spine. You sat in his lap. The weight of your belly was heavy against your thighs. The firmness pushing back always brought the reality of the situation crashing down around you. He had bewitched you, stuffed his cock inside of you, and bred you like some concubine.

His touch was feather light at first. His fingertips brushed over your skin like it was satin. It barely gave way as he gently pressed his palm against the swell. His hand moved to the bottom of your belly, holding up some of the weight. You choked back a moan of relief as some of the tension was taken from your back.

“Healthy. Strong,” his other hand settled on your waist. He pressed a kiss against your neck, “It won’t be long.”

You swallowed. You were dreading it. You were afraid.

“I’ll have the midwife visit you this evening and make sure everything is going along as nicely as it looks.”

You frowned a bit at that. You hated him the most, but the midwife was second. She was clinical and thorough. She would examine everything she could if her presence was requested. She would call for the maid to come and hold you down if you put up a fight. The measuring and the pinching and the prodding was one thing. The way she chastised you made your blood boil. She took note of how you didn’t want to be pregnant. She told you that you were lucky to be given such a role, to be blessed with the presence of someone so powerful. So virile. When she slipped her fingers inside of you and saw that he hadn’t taken you, she would berate you for not fulfilling your role. You were supposed to please him. You were his servant. He owned you completely. That you didn’t have the right to refuse him. He gave you food and a proper bed. At the very least, you could let him sink his teeth into your neck, to bend over and take his cock until he was satisfied and his seed dripped down your thighs.

The feeling of his hand slipping into your smallclothes brought you out of your reverie. You grabbed his wrist. Your mouth fell open as his fingers delved inside, “St…Stop it,” you tried to pull him away, but he only pushed further.

“You’re in the position to make any demands, pet,” he pulled you toward him. He leaned you back against his chest. His free hand brushed your hair away from your neck.

“Please,” you whimpered, “I-!” the familiar sting of his fangs burned through your neck and into your shoulder. You didn’t move. You couldn’t, for fear of him ripping your throat out. You could only listen to each swallow. When the pain faded, you were left with the feeling of his fingers pressing up into a spot that made the grip on his wrist tighten. You could only watch the maid stand in the doorway, scowling as she watched.

He withdrew from your neck with a ragged gasp. He had taken more than usual. You were beginning to feel lightheaded. Blood still seeped from the puncture wounds and seeped into your dress, staining it beyond repair. His tongue laved over the marks. He wanted to taste every last drop until your wound clotted and the blood stopped pouring.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hissed. In your time with him, you had found that blood was like wine to creatures like him. His voice was lower now. A rumble in his chest that you could feel against your back.

You couldn’t help but whine as he removed his hand. You tensed as he lifted you and reached for his pants. You grabbed the arm of the chair. You needed to get up. You had to get away from him before-

His nails dug into your hips so harshly that you knew you would bruise. He pulled you down onto him, hard and fast. You cried out as he filled you, as he pressed against your cervix like he was trying to impregnate you all over again. You threw your head back over his shoulder.

“Look at you,” with one hand clutching your thigh, the other rose to your belly. He bounced you on his lap. The child in your womb shifted with each thrust. You could feel the weight pressing into his hand, “You’re doing so well. My child is flourishing inside of you. You’ll struggle through the birth. You’ll toil until you give me an heir. All because you’re a good pet. My only pet. My darling. Your blood is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted,” his hand slipped between your legs again, “Your womb takes my cock like it was made for it. You’ll dance for me again, won’t you? You’ll sway your hips and make those gold discs you wear sing. You’ll climb on top of me and let me fill you with another child because that’s what you were made for. You were made for me.

He was drunk. He was saying things that made you want to hit him. But your dizziness was getting worse. The blood had stopped, but he had taken too much. You couldn’t lift your head from his shoulder. You moaned and gasped as he fucked you harder. You couldn’t respond. You couldn’t tell him that you wanted to run away. That you never wanted to see him or his child. You wanted to be free. You wanted to return to your old life. You didn’t want any of this. This had all started because he had put you into a trance.

“Ngh!” you were about to break. The tension was about to snap. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to clamp around him like a vice and milk him for everything he had. You couldn’t. Not when he wanted to keep you. You couldn’t give him another reason.

The pressure of his fingertips shattered what strength you had left. You whimpered and keened. He didn’t stop. He coaxed you through your orgasm until the pressure was so great that you feared that he would induce childbirth. He pulled you flush against him. Warmth pooled inside of you.

You stared up at the ceiling, thighs twitching. His fingers cradled your jaw. He cleaned away what blood remained. He kissed all of the skin he could reach. Softly, like you were lovers. Not just a master and his slave. Something else. Something different.

“Alright, ladies,” Your boss, a short and plump woman, clapped her hands. She waited until the room was quiet and all eyes were on her to continue, “This night is important to us. We are performing for one of the most exclusive parties in the city. Everyone needs to bring their best. I normally don’t encourage this, but feel free to make friends.”

You fought the urge to scowl. So she was openly endorsing fraternizing with the audience in order to earn more money. You couldn’t help but wonder if she was getting greedy and wanted a cut of the profit.

“Let’s go.”

You got up, walking with the other women. The sheer material you wore fluttered behind you. The gold discs on your waist and trailing down your hips clinked against each other. The newest dancer was whispering nervously to yourself. You didn’t get nervous anymore. You just did your job and then took your payment at the end of the night.

The small party was held in a room lit by candles. Most guests had a glass in their hands, though you could tell that some of them had been drinking for hours. Without looking directly at them, you made a mental note of each man you should avoid as soon as the party ended. It was a common occurrence for one or two men to follow a dancer as they left in order to get a bit of private time with them.

You positioned yourself on the left-hand side of the small stage, waiting for the music to start. The more eager girls took the front. You almost scoffed. Some thought that they were going to become famous if the right person saw them dancing. Others merely wanted more money by taking the spotlight. It didn’t matter to you. Every dancer was paid the same amount at the end of the night. Tips were just a perk of the trade. You saved enough money doing what you did best.

The first note broke your spell. You began to dance, hips rolling and arms moving slowly and gracefully. Intricate steps weren’t necessary. All you needed was the right pace and angles to drive men wild. Your gaze remained on the back wall, your expression lustful to no one in particular.

As the night continued, you became aware of a stare that weighed heavily on your body. It had persisted, even as some of your fellow dancers went out into the crowd. You used your peripheral vision to try to find who was so interested in you. Even after so many years, you hated looking at your audience.

The man in question was sitting the furthest from the stage, a glass of something dark in his hand. None of the servers approached him to refill his glass. He seemed to be languidly sipping the same drink for the entire night. He was older than you, his temples dusted with grey, though the rest of his hair was dark. His body was lean, carrying a certain power as he crossed one leg over the other. A quiet confidence. Well, he was certainly better than other men that had been obsessed with you.

You glanced to his face. He was rather handsome, admittedly. His eyes were-

Even as you blinked, you found it impossible to tear your gaze away from his. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. The sound nearly drowned out the music. The candles seemed dimmer now, like the room itself had sensed something changing.

You moved to the front of the stage, descending the small set of stairs that separated you from the rest of the party. Each step caused the golden discs on your outfit to rattle softly, though you could barely hear it. The unoccupied men in the front row moved their hands away from their laps, thinking that you were going to dance on them. You walked right by, your eyes still locked onto the man furthest from the stage. The audience was rather small, so he was sitting in the middle of the room. The way he sat made you wonder if he owned the building you were standing in. He looked like he owned the entire city, actually. With the way he was looking at you, it felt like he had already bought your soul and was simply collecting what was rightfully his.

You stopped in front of him, hips swaying as you continued to dance. Your hands trailed over your body, missing the important places by mere inches. Teasing was a part of the job, after all. You could feel other members of the audience staring at you, but you paid no attention to them. You were still focused on the man taking another sip from his drink, his eyes trailing up and down your body.

He set his drink down on the table next to him, licking his lips slowly. He uncrossed his legs. An invitation. Going against everything you believed in, you accepted it. You straddled him, knees pressed against the wood on either side of his hips. His hand immediately moved to your back, resting gently on your skin. You could feel the metal rings he wore, a bit cold compared to the temperature of the room. You placed your hands on his shoulders in order to keep yourself steady as you rolled your hips.

He said nothing. His expression was neutral, but you could see something lurking in his eyes. Something dark. He merely allowed you to continue, his hand pulling you just a bit closer.

What were you doing? You never did this. You hadn’t touched a member of the audience in all of your years as a part of the troupe, and now you were on some man’s lap. But it could ruin things if you got off of him now. You would have to wait until he grew tired of you or the performance ended. Then you would have every reason to fluidly slip from his chair and return to the room saved for the dancers.

He tilted his head to one side. You kissed him, hands trailing down his chest. The softness of the material beneath your fingertips told you that his clothes were expensive. At the very least, he had some sort of title. Even as you withdrew from the kiss, you wondered why you had done such a thing. Kissing a member of the audience was frowned upon by most dancers. On any other day, your boss would have given you an earful. But with such rich clients, she was making an exception.

His hands slipped between your bodies, trailing down your stomach before settling between your legs. He stroked you through your smallclothes, causing your spine to arch a bit and your fingers to clutch his clothes. Your hands descended, blindly unbuckling his belt and moving his trousers just enough to free his cock. You were still focused on his eyes as your hands returned to his shoulders. He pulled your smallclothes to one side, exposing you to the cold air. You couldn’t help but shiver. His other hand grabbed his cock, rubbing it against you.

You pulled yourself closer, biting your lip as it began to push into you. He let go, his palm on your back. He guided your waist. You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from making noise as he filled you. No one in the crowd reacted. Your clothes hid everything. The only people aware of what was truly happening were you and the man you were straddling. You moved with the music, arms trailing through the air. To everyone else, it looked like you were just dancing on his lap.

Your breath hitched as you continued. He leaned back in the chair, watching you move. His eyes strayed from yours for a moment, trailing down your body. Your pace slowed. Why were you doing this? You were supposed to be dancing on stage, not having sex with him.

His eyes snapped back up to meet yours, teeth bared in a low growl that rumbled against your chest. He was getting close. His grip on your waist was almost bruising. Your hands were almost glued to his shoulders. You can’t fathom letting him go. Not when he made you feel this good. It didn’t matter if he came inside of you. You just wanted a bit more time with him. Just a few more seconds of feeling his body against yours.

An unfamiliar warmth pooled inside of you. You kept moving, even as your walls twitched around him. He leaned toward you, his lips and teeth tracing over your neck. You bit your lip to keep yourself from making a sound. You couldn’t get caught. Not now. A familiar melody played. The last song of the night.

He pulled your body from his, adjusting his pants and your smallclothes. You could feel droplets of liquid running down your thighs. You would have to be careful when walking back to the dressing room. His attention shifted to his glass, lifting it and taking a slow sip.

Your mind was still fogged from the sex as you stood and slowly danced your way back to the dressing room with the other dancers.

Your mind had cleared completely in days, so you realized quickly that your performance that night had consequences.

At first, you had thought that you had contracted some sort of illness. Nausea plagued you. You were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t dance. You remained in the dressing room, shivering as you tried to will away your nausea.

Within a few moons, you knew that something was wrong.

You sat on your bed. Given your reputation in the company, you were allowed to have your own room. You were thankful for it now that your body had changed. Your stomach had only a gentle swell at first, but now the weight rested on your thighs. None of your companions had noticed, but you knew that it would become obvious with time.

It seemed that your luck hadn’t run out yet. A new dancer had joined, which caused your boss to give you some time off while she was trained in the ways of the troupe. You took the temporary vacation graciously, but it didn’t solve your problem.

Your stomach fluttered. You tensed, still not used to the sensation. You cautiously pressed your palm to your belly. It was too late to visit a physiker. A witch would only cause you problems. You couldn’t stay with the company. Once they discovered your pregnancy, you would be fired. They couldn’t afford to pay dancers that couldn’t dance. They certainly didn’t want to deal with a fussy child during their performances.

You steeled yourself. You decided to leave the company without a word. You had enough money saved up that you would be able to rent a small room at a cheap inn until you could rejoin another dancing troupe. As for your child, you were sure that you could find someone more than capable of caring for them. You didn’t have the funds or the time. Your profession required all of your attention, especially if you were doing solo work for a few months.

You packed up your things and left. A small town would be the best option, which meant a short trip by horse. You found one of the main streets. It was rather dark, even with the many hanging lamps. There were some narrow alleyways, but you better than to get too close, lest you be robbed at knifepoint. Given the money you were carrying, you need to stick to the crowds while keeping an eye on your coin purse. But the early hours of the morning were approaching. The crowds were dying down considerably.

After through the main square, it became apparent that no one had a horse for sale. You would have to renew your efforts in the morning. You stopped, trying to remember the location of the nearest inn. Your stomach fluttered once more, harder this time. You winced. You doubted that you would ever grow accustomed to such a sensation.

A gentle creak alerted you to one of the alleyways. A sign was hanging from the wall. An inn. Your attention shifted to the alley itself. There was a bend in the path. Someone could be lingering around the corner. Your gaze fell to the ground. There were hanging lights in the alleyway, leaving the shadows of the brick and other signs. Even as you cautiously drew closer, the shadows gave no hint at someone lurking.

You strode toward the inn, becoming confident that you wouldn’t be attacked. You looked down the branching path. There was nothing there. You smiled a bit. It seemed you would make it to the inn unscathed.

You paid for a room, then trudged up the stairs. The added weight to your womb made it a bit more difficult, but you managed. You locked the door and took a deep breath. Your journey seemed to be going smoothly.

“I’ve been looking for you, pet.”

You whirled around to face the rest of the room. A man was standing in front of the window. He took a step forward. Your blood ran cold.

It was the man from that fateful night. Even as he moved closer, the room was bathed in moonlight. Something was wrong with him.

You reached back to unlock the door, only for your hand to freeze. You had made eye contact with him, your body no longer obeying your commands. Your fingertips were touching the lock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move it. Despite the fear in your mind, your body relaxed.

His attention strayed to your stomach before he ensnared you with his gaze once more. He was standing before you now. His hand reached past you, something on the door snapping. When he withdrew, he was holding the lock’s latch. He had broken it with strength alone. He crumpled the latch in his fist, “A good pet doesn’t leave her master, _____. Especially when she’s carrying her master’s child.”

Wait, when had he-

“Now, you’re going to dance for me.”

“I-I…” It seemed you still talk this time, “I don’t-“