Yandere Isekai
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3
CW: feet, blood kink , dehumanization, creepy behavior, heavy M tendencies from yan, n/c touching/kissing.
Since that night you sneaked off, the man you once called yours virtually kept trying to get you to talk. Trying to progress your relationship to whatever next level fantasy he’s conjured up in his head…Oh and also help with your pronunciation. Well….he was more of the former.
That was until..
He decided to host a party in his mansion for a collaboration with another business, some drink you offhandedly remember him talking about, Sounds of the buzzing voices, hastened footsteps of servants running across the huge house to prepare the upcoming evening event in a structured manner. You wanted to take a peek—just a little but fear holds you tight within that room and it’s four walls.
The party had long started when the sun had began to set but you stayed in your room, ears prickling to the muffled voices you can slightly hear past the door and down the stairs where the life stayed. You don’t join in the festivities, with the minuscule feeling of dread to seeing familiar faces and lingering memories of pain yet this man still buys you a…. dress.
It was white.
Absolutely gorgeous.
A dress so beautiful and extravagant you feel unworthy of even thinking of putting it on. Hand-beaded pearls and jewels decorated the floor-length dress, multiple layers of cloth and ruffles overlap each-other beautifully, it was modest—covering up parts that didn’t need to be seen yet there’s fabric that cinched perfectly against whatever curves one may have. When you saw the mannequin in your room with that dress on, you wondered of it’s purpose, fingers brushing against the expensive fabric.
“I want you to wear it,” his voice sounds from behind, you gasp, quickly turning around. You didn’t hear him, then again…
It’s what he was good at.
“I’m sorry” he apologizes, “I won’t force you to but…I just..want to see you in it.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “J—join…thum…?” You asked gesturing to below the house, where the party was still ongoing, “Oh, no no. You don’t have to join them—us. You can stay here if you want. It’s.. the dress isn’t for that..” he gulped, like he was having trouble saying the words he really wanted to say. “I’m sorry—again.” He sighs, “You—nevermind…it’s selfish of me to even ask you that.” He was muttering to himself before standing up straight to look at you. “Sorry, I’ll just….leave you alone for now.” He turned to walk away, to leave—get out and let you be for at least a few hours before he came to bother you once more….. and you should’ve let him go. Be happy that he wasn’t bothering you. In fact you should’ve made him leave as soon as possible.
Perhaps then…you could have avoided what happened that night. And the other nights.
“Wu—wa-it…” you finally speak out, your voice so quiet one would have to strain their ears to hear, a little part of you hoped he didn’t hear you, but the cease of his footsteps tells you differently. He turns, a smile you don’t what to decipher the meaning of sitting handsomely on that face of his. “Yes?” Instead of replying with words, you hold onto a sleeve of the dress, you can feel the heaviness of the jewels sewed into the cuffs of it, how much did this cost?
“You’ll wear it?” He asks hopefully. You stand there for a moment—hesitation evidently in your body language but you nod. That smile grows ever larger.
Due to the dress being so heavy, with a zipper to the back, he had to help you in it—of course letting you have a few moments to yourself put it on first before helping you zip it up.
He turns around once you were done, where he comes face to face with the bare skin of your back.
He stared at it for what seemed like hours, skin that was exposed to him, you stood still waiting for him—a few minutes pass and you let out a noise of confusion, “a-ah..sorry I forgot it had some parts to fix before I zip it up, let me do that first yeah?” He lets out a shaky breath when he realized something.
You weren’t wearing a bra.
At least he didn’t remember leaving you any, he assumed the maids had it covered but….
He bites his lip taring at the exposed skin welcoming his eyes, lowering his gaze til it rests to the bottom of the zipper, where a sliver of your undergarments was exposed and Fuck—he was hard. Fingers absent of their usual gloves shakily trace the sides of your body—you being none the wiser—you don’t know how intricate dresses of this world works, the ones he had gifted you before were simple enough yet this dress seemed very important and extremely expensive—if the diamonds and crystals decorating the hem of your neck wasn’t enough.
Brandishing you like a fine victim for criminals from a mile away with how brightly they sparkled under the chandelier hanging above you both.
You didn’t want to anger him by accidentally breathing too much and ripping a stitch that could cost you more than you could ever afford to pay. Yet you didn’t know how the man behind you, a man usually composed and stoic—never once batting an eye or taking a glance to the many women who yearn for his affection, is doing his best to not beg you to let him lay his kisses along your feet. Holding back from kissing the ground you walk on. Trying not to whip out his cock to release all over your soft back—it aches and throbs beneath his slacks and he knows he won’t last long if he stays with you any longer.
Quickly he zips it up, finishing the end details like pinning the flowers and tying up the ribbon that rests above your bum. He steps back, allowing you space to turn around for him.
His breathe hitches.
Already knowing how pretty you are from the dresses you obediently wore for days, he knew it would look gorgeous on you. But seeing you in his Mother’s wedding dress blew him away. You fit her perfectly he thinks, remembering his mother’s words
‘The perfect woman for you would be one who can fit into my wedding dress perfectly!’
That is your sign, she said. And now… here you are, literally dropped onto his doorstep like a gift from above—one that he abused so cruelly before—Oh but he’s changed!
He knew now, that you are the one for him.
His other half.
His one and only.
You were sent to complete him.
Fidgeting in place a little, you wonder if it looks bad, he’s been quiet for awhile now you think, not knowing the eureka he has just experienced just looking at you. “Umm…” you start, he blinks, “O-oh! Hah..sorry, got caught off guard by how.. Beautiful you look in it.” You hate how that made your scared little heart flutter. “Can you do a little twirl for me?” he requests softly, like a pet you obey, slowing turning til you’ve made a complete 360.
“Gorgeous.” Nodding his head in approval, “I also have the shoes to match if you’d like?” At that you shake your head no. you’ve already let him play dress up and that’s all you’ll give him tonight.
You hope.
He deflates a little, it’s almost hilarious but you can’t find it in you to laugh. “Well..that’s okay, here—come to the mirror so you can see for yourself.” with a hand to your waist, he leads you to the mirror floor length mirror across the room.
Holy shit, he was right.
You look gorgeous.
The dress fit you perfectly, glittering stones decorate you like a royal crown, you were right by assuming the dress cinched perfectly to your shape—wait yours? Well the dress did fit you to a T. You admired yourself in the mirror—not minding the weird man lovingly gazing at you from behind. You wonder if this is an apology from a higher power above. You’ve never felt this pretty wearing a dress.
Turning this way and that, you can’t find a bad angle at all!
It’s like the dress was… made for you.
Of course, normally you would assume that—he had the money afterall, but.. there was a certain…age to it. You don’t know why but you feel that this dress belonged to someone important once before….
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” he speaks up from behind, still admiring yourself you don’t turn to look at him, only nodding in response. After adoringly watching you for a few more minutes, he leaves.
———-
“You seem to be busy nowadays huh?” One of the many faceless men jokingly asks him, “Is there a…. missus we’ve never heard about?” Another pipes up beside him and in the response the crowd swirling around him laughs, “Oh nothing new, just something called…a job.” he deadpans.
The first man, he doesn’t remember his name but his red face was clearly a sign of his deep intoxication, “C’monnn~ you don’t have to hide it from us! Tell us, is she prettier than mine?” He nudges the man rudely, before pointing to his wife from across the room, wine sloshing in his cup due to how unstable he moves, “Hah! Forget about looks! How good is she in bed? She must be phenomenal with how much effort you spend to keep her hidden.” Another snickers, the men around them agree with hollers and jeers.
Of course, as ecpected from a party with heavy alcohol involved.
Animals. He sneers.
His eye twitches in response to those disgusting questions. Pigs, He internally scoffs at these pathetic men. “My good Sirs, it seems you have…. drunk your fill for the night, why don’t you go rest and….leave some for the rest of us, yeah?” Giving them his practiced smile, the men raise their own cups in agreement. Buncha yesmen.
Monkeys, another eye twitch. But he keeps the smile.
He can’t wait for this to be over.
——-
It’s finally over.
An exhausted sigh leaves his mouth.
After the party finally ends and the last guest departs, he leaves to return up to your quarters, the servants were left to clean up the mess left behind by unruly guests.
With a candelabra in hand, he walks up the flight of stairs to your floor.
The help don’t question their master and his sudden obsession with the pretty lady he keeps hidden in one of his many rooms. Knocking before entering to avoid another scare, he sees you still in the dress, all negative feelings leave him instantly, instead filling him with adoration one would have for a cute kitten—of course you were more than that to him.
“The party is over,” he starts, “I..” he clears his throat, “well—i know it’s..late but—” his hands goes to pull at his collar, “I would like to ask you….if you can join me for a dance?” You stare at him, a…dance? Something else he wants? You wanted to say No, you thought he was done for the night, he told you he would leave you alone.
Although you register later that it was a bad idea when you realized that you couldn’t take off the damn dress without his help.
So you decide that just for that night that you will…
Sleep in it.
But you haven’t been successful so far.
Like sure the jewels are hard as fuck and pinch you wrong sometimes but the fear of ruining it has rendered you sleepless yet now he was here—at first you thought he was here to help you take it off but instead he just wants another thing from you.
You should say no.
You nod your head yes. Fucking idiot. Your mind screams, you’re gonna get us killed!
“Can you…come with me?” A hand out for you to take, obediently you do. Why are you doing this? Why are you letting him do this?
Is this survival? Or are you still in love with the character you saw through a screen?
He brings you to a room at the end of the hall, it was unfamiliar, he lets you go for a moment to open it up, pushing the heavy wooden door to reveal a room much larger than yours, unlike the carpeted floors of your room. This one had polished floors instead— so shiny and clear you can see your reflection on it.
Leading you to a loveseat before a fireplace, you sit down, the material soft and comfortable underneath you. It’s been a while since you’ve sat on something quite as soft since you still vehemently refused to sleep on the bed in your room—too terrified to suddenly wake up to him above, just waiting for you to close your eyes so he can bring down the knife—so this is the first time you’ve felt such a soft cushion that wasn’t an armchair.
You hear him rummaging somewhere in the room but you fix your gaze to the burning flames before you.
Such warmth.
Soon his silhouette obscures your view and looking up, there’s a box in his hands. Kneeling in front of you, he opens the box—
It’s the heels you never bothered to wear.
It’s just as beautiful as the dress, all white and covered in diamonds—priceless gems, littered in like money wasn’t a problem for him. “I understand that you don’t want to wear it..but I would like to see you in them for just a while—just a few minutes, at least while we dance then you can take it off….please?” Refuse, he doesn’t deserve it, please say no—come on just this once say no…
SAYNOSAYNOSAYNO-
You nod. Pushing down the feelings of dread swirling in your gut and….lifted your right foot up.
Another uncharacteristic grin spreads across his face, taking out the shoe corresponding to it, his other hand gently cradles the heel of your foot. With no warning, he lifts it up before leaning down to kiss your toes one by one.
You freeze up but he doesn’t notice.
Starting from the littlest one, his lips tingle, each contact he makes creates mini electric shocks that travels from the tips of your toes to your back, making you grip at the seat beneath you. With the last kiss on the last appendage he slips on the shoe, before moving on to your left foot, giving it the same treatment. Gathering them both in his heavy palms he stares at them.
A perfect fit once again.
“Such beautiful feet,” he confesses, with one last kiss to each foot, he sets them down and gets up to bow at the waist. “May I have this dance?” You were still reeling from his alleged… fetish when you took notice of his awaiting hand,“but….no..so..und?” Pointing to your ear to wonder how you’re gonna dance without music.
A chuckle leaves him, “We won’t need any dear, just follow my steps.”
With slight hesitation you stand up and, despite the heels— he still towers over you, a clear distinction of the difference in size and strength that you know you can’t escape if he tried anything.
You purse your lips, wishing away the thoughts in your head before taking his hand—letting him lead you to the ‘dance floor’ which is just the large extra space behind the loveseat, both of you dance the remaining night away with him holding you delicately in his arms, the sweet hum of his voice as he sang a song to fill the silence between you.
He had a beautiful one—a voice you probably would’ve fangirled over for days if not for the history between you two. The whole time your gaze stays on the floor, trying to match his steps to avoid stepping on the dress or his feet though you wish you did step on his feet. Bare fingers, absent of the gloves he usually wears gently pull your face to look at him, forcing you to stare into the eyes you yourself have stared at for hours before dropping into this world.
Eyes that were once full of hatred and disgust—now only show pure love and adoration, without warning he leans forwards as if to kiss you—
Quickly turn your head so his lips meet your cheek instead, fear immediately grips you. Both bodies stop moving, the only thing illuminating the room was the roaring fireplace and the moon shining through the huge window that bathe you both in it’s shine. Was he going to get mad you didn’t let him kiss you? You begin to feel the sweat building up beneath the now-suffocating layers of fabric on your skin.
Soft he hums internally to himself.
Stepping back away from you. He admires you in the glowing moonlight—wishing he had one of those —’memory keepers’ he hears about in his travels through town so he can keep a remembrance of what you’d look like on your wedding day to him.
In turn you stare at him shrouded in the shadows of the room, a perfect parallel between you too.
A gentle hand grabs yours to lead you to a bed you never noticed—by now you realize this must be his room, sitting you down before once more kneeling before you, removing the heels one by one before going on to massage them. He asks you if you’re alright, merely nodding in reply—the conversation continues like this, with you barely responding with your mouth.
However what went from a normal conversation turned into another session where he releases his pent-up guilt and shame, pain and anguish racking through him as he recounts the day he murdered you, “May a creature as sweet as you never forgive,” he begs, pressing a weeping face to your lap, “All I want—all I deserve…is your ire,” he shudders, “Your anger, the hurt, to yell at me—anything and everything that you will grant me.” A strong hand grips yours—now sweaty in his grasp, bringing it to his face to kiss your fingertips, “Let me feel it, I will endure it all because I deserve it and now I realize..”
He turns his gaze up at you, looking more like a humble servant to a beautiful goddess than a powerful Lord, “That it is love that I feel deep within me, love that I cannot express in words alone, love that consumes me whole with thoughts of you.” He almost whimpers when you stroke his face, thumb brushing against a stray tear at the edge of his eyes. His breathe shudders and moving his face closer to your warm hand.
“And it’s with this love, that I promise to serve and protect you til the day I die, to love you until you tire of me and need me no longer. I will do anything and everything in my power to provide for you and anything it is that you will ever need.”
You can’t feel a thing. It’s the same song and dance for days—although he tells you it’s okay to take your anger out on him—have your revenge. You can’t.
You couldn’t raise a finger to hurt him—not then and not now. You don’t have it in you. You weren’t a violent person and despite your anguish—a plan to hurt him back never crossed your mind.
Was it survival?
God, You just wanted to get out and go live belong somewhere peacefully.
You sit there while he sniffles silently, other hand moving to stroke at his head—a stray thought musing on how soft his hair was, then without thinking, you lead his head to rest at your bosom—and like a dam was released within him, he begins to weep. At the sight of it, you feel your own eyes welling up with tears before they roll down your cheeks.
It was a few stray drops at first, ones you easily blink away, then non-stop tears pour out yet you don’t make a sound, instead you cradle him like one does a baby.
That night, the both of you sleep side by side for the first time.
———
Things changed after that night, becoming more tolerable—somehow and….normal for you at least. you don’t feel afraid of his sudden touches like you normally do and it seems he has noticed this—often pulling you into hugs or peppering you with kisses on your head, hands or even feet if you allowed him too.
Winter has come and you—surprisingly found it more comfortable sleeping next to him on your bed during the colder months, his body unnaturally warmer than most. He never tried anything, not once has he breached anymore than quick hugs and subtle kisses.
But it all escalated the one time you kissed him back, it was a quick one barely even a peck on his cheek yet his face went as red as the wine he often drank. He spent the whole day stuttering around you, his gaze unable to meet yours.
Of course that little action from you left him hard as diamonds—leaving to quickly relieve him multiple times a days like a horny teen in the many dark corners of his mansion, a desperate hand rubbing his shaft and remembering the soft feel of your lips…imagining it wrapped around his throbbing length—with a strangled groan, he cums hard, spilling his precious seed into a handkerchief you once used. He hastily cleans himself up before anyone sees.
He’s had to repeat this process a few more times later that day regardless.
You got used to doing that—leaving him a little kiss on his cheek every time he brought you breakfast or a gift, a little part of you was smug that you got this usually emotionless man to blush like lovestruck-teen.
Of course you didn’t know that he was secretly hoarding all the panties you’ve ever worn since living in that room.
Beating his aching meat to the scent of your precious cunt pressed to his nose every night without fail. Tongue licking up and down where your pussylips would have been smushed up against—tasting what little you gifted him.
Yet despite the orgasms wracking his body night after night, he was never satisfied. But he would never pressure you—He wouldn’t dare to even think to ask you. No matter how much he wants nothing more than to slam you onto his desk that night you both danced and pump you full of his seed. Or the days after when his head was filled with thoughts of putting you in a mating press and fucking you til you were leaking his cum for days, letting him clean up the mess with his tongue before shoving his cock back in to leave another heavy load deep in your surely tight cunt.
His body ached with need but his respect—or lack thereof for your privacy and guilt holds him back, he has no right to demand anything of you. Grateful for what little you bestow upon him. Keeping them in his heart like precious treasures. Which they are.
However one winter night changed the trajectory everything for the both of you. You had kissed him goodnight like you always did, however you left it on his lips instead of his cheek as usually. He was shocked, obviously. Almost dropping the tray holding what little remained of the dinner you both shared.
His eyes locked onto you, then without thinking, he drops the tray—glass shatters but he pays no mind to it. Moving to hold you gently as he kisses you back—it was desperate and wanting. Accepting it, you lean forward, pushing back and angling your head to meld your lips together, a moan escapes him—like he was finally rewarded of something he was deprived of for ages.
Hands travelled to your hips before moving to your thighs, with brute strength he lifts you, you instantly wrap your hands around his neck and your legs around his waist, the fabric of your dress bunching around your waist—you pull back to balance yourself but he chases your lips, “No, no please..come back” he begs, moving his head to connect your lips, your kisses were like air to him, he desperately explores your mouth with his tongue, coaxing your own shy one to dance with his, he carries you to the bed, never once leaving the lip-lock you were both engaged in—almost crushing you underneath his weight when he slams you both on it, slightly bouncing from the mattress resistance.
Tongues fighting for dominance he easily lets you win, moaning as you take what you want from him. You pull back, catching your breath. Panting is all the noise that echoes—you stare into his eyes, those eyes that once harbored such disdain.
Eyes that now look at you with such love it was laughable. You suddenly feel an itch.
You don’t know why but the memories suddenly flood through you, the pain and helplessness you’ve felt for weeks and months after his torture made you feel dirty.
Your fingers were itching for something. An urge you don’t know.
He simpers down at you, eager and patiently awaiting for your next move.
Your right eye twitches and without warning—you reach for it, soft fingers rest gently against his eyelid that closes as soon as he sees it approaching. You rub your finger over it, he realizes what’s going through your head and he smiles at your ‘idea’.
With ease, he picks you up and turns you both until you are now sitting on his lap, letting you feel the big, hard bulge pressing against your own embarrassingly weeping panties.
“Go ahead.”
With that answer, he enables you to do what you’ve been wanting to for days.
Your finger pierces his eye socket, digging around as though looking for something—what are you looking for? The blood pours from the wound you’re causing, staining your hands and his face a ghoulish red but his smile doesn’t drop, and not a hint of pain is present in his other eye, hands dutifully kept at your sides, massaging your hips with his thumbs as if to encourage you.
Without stopping, you push further-further-further. Feeling the ball of his eye and the fleshy sinew that would’ve had you disgusted but your mind is blank and your hand doesn’t stop gouging it outoutout til…
Pop!
It hangs there, his once beautiful eye is hanging by one fleshy thread, one that you easily yank off with your other free hand, staring at it now—you can’t help but compare it to the one he stole from you.
Looks similar, your mind blankly states.
The whole time he never lets out a sound of pain, not an ounce of movement to indicate that that he didn’t want this. You show him the eyeball—almost as if it was something you won rather than something you savagely took from him. Like he did you.
He gives you a small grin—almost proud, you move to drop it into the glass of water he always leaves you with by the nightstand. Watching the orb bounce around for a few moments before it stills. The eye moves to stare at you and you almost think it was alive.
Moving to pull your fingers out until a desperate, “No!” Leaves him, hand coming up to stop you from exiting the wound.
You freeze.
“No.” He says again, gently this time. “Do it more….please.” He was almost panting now, the blood pouring down his face made him more handsome somehow or maybe you’re just as sick as him.
“Make it so that it scars.…” Practically begging you, it was then you feel it, the bulge throbbing underneath you.
He was still hard.
As though the excruciating pain of having his eye pulled out—you know how that feels, was nothing. As though to reward him with his good behavior, you grind against him and he moans. You continue to prod around, moving your fingers and pressing against the soft flesh pumping blood beneath your fingers til he lets out a loud moan and you know he had just cum untouched. He slouches as though exhausted, and you pull out your fingers, staring at the blood covering your digits, you think of how dirty they are.
Your gaze move to his still open mouth, panting after such a toe-curling orgasm. Pushing them into his gaping maw, he eagerly sucks on them, gratefully looking at you with so much love he can portray in his now one eye.
You don’t feel a single regret.
——
The next day had everyone shocked at his ‘new look’, the eyepatch over his left eye had some people gushing with rumors over who could’ve destroyed such a handsome face. Rumors he instantly stilled with his harsh words and the many screaming victims in his basement who dared tarnish your precious ‘reward’ to him unknowingly.
When asked, all he answers that it was ‘an accident’ yet it was said with such fondness people wonder what truly happened, as if his eye wasn’t currently being kept with you. Like he didn’t go through such lengths to encase it in a container and preservation magic so you could always view it whenever you wanted.
Your lives had ‘suddenly’ …..improved, spending more time with him in his room, reading the many books that littered his shelves or having him read them to you by the fireplace when it got to cold to stay in your room.
He adores it when you invade his space.
Leaving your scent all over his sheets. Which he would huff all morning when you leave like an addict, strangling his oozing morning wood with the panties you ‘accidentally’ left in his room til he spills all over them like a wretched dog in a rut he can’t control.
Occasionally you both would go out for nightly walks and catch fireflies to keep in jars, sometimes you’d play hide and seek—you inwardly found it morbidly funny that he only had one eye to find with in the darkness.
Yet he always won whether he was the seeker or the hider.
—-
And one day, you called for him—your sweet voice spilling from your delicate lips.
His name.
The only thing you’ve gotten used to saying over and over without stuttering.
He still remembers the day when you spoke his name for the first time, he had instantly gone rock hard, body locking up before an orgasm shot through him.
He inwardly moans at the memory, even now as you got used to calling out his name—the effect hasn’t worn off, he doesn’t think it ever will as hearing you hum was enough to have him swell with desire. You speaking just his name instantly stiffens him with arousal, cocking already leaking pre like he hasn’t released for weeks yet he had just recently shot a load that morning when you rubbed your sock-covered feet all over it, all cute with lace flowers decorating the hem, alll over his disgustingly huge cock. Little feet massaging his worthless meat til you allow him to spill all over your delicate skin.
Before he begged you to let him use his tongue to clean up your dirtied up feet like a good dog.
Ah, good times.
Of course, you still didn’t let him touch you there, nothing beyond sweet kisses and heavy makeouts where his hands stayed at your waist like a gentleman despite the not-so-gentleman thoughts running through his head whenever your lips lock together in a dance that leaves him breathless and aching with desire for days.
Staggering to you, he kneels instantly, almost falling as he grips your dress.
Your breasts almost spill from the tight corset of your dress, creating a delicious view for his eyes only, yet his focuses his gaze on your eyes, beautiful and full of mirth. A delicate hand covered in many rings he’s gifted you clutches at your lower tummy, almost caressing it.
“What’s wrong, my love? Are you in pain?” His worried voice had you melting a bit—just a bit.
Before you lift your dress, another pretty one, in the colors pink and red. leaning back to help you push it further, “Is the wound here?” He comes face to face, to your white panties, an innocent color, yet the clear indent of your puffy clit from where he sucked it nonstop this morning was indecently still there. Pressed up as though seducing him for another taste—and his mouth waters for a second round til he notices something…
Blood.
There was blood where it should just be white where your slit was. At first, panic fills him. Thoughts of a hidden wound he never noticed causing you pain. About to ask you just that, he halts when he feels the slight shaking of your body and he realizes that you’re silently laughing.
Oh.
“Oh darling..” he murmurs, relief flooding him before nuzzling your thigh, “Have you started your monthly?” A nod tells him his guess was correct. Although you’ve had multiple periods throughout the months you’ve stayed in this mansion, you never once told him nor did he ask.
Months in the mountains had you finding ways to soak up the blood without the use of pads and if he ever noticed the missing expensive cotton sheets you’ve used and cut up to stuff in your underwear. He never commented.
But now…you don’t know why but you’ve decided to spare his poor sheets you know he’s had to replace multiple times—ones you know costs way too much for just bedsheets. Of course you wished you felt bad, but in a way it felt… cathartic. letting your ‘dirty’ blood stain his hard-earned money.
He feels grateful that you feel comfortable enough to let him take care of you even more, immediately asking you what you want him to do. “Would you like the maids to prepare you some food for strength? Or a warm compress perhaps? I heard it helps with stomach pains.” You shake your head no and he chuckles, “Well, I can’t read your mind my love, mind showing it to me?” slowly cupping his face with both hands before moving it to the top of his head—
And pushing it down into your cunt, right into his face.
His eyes widen, “My oh my….” He moans, breathing in the heady scent that is you, “Of course, my mistress, anything you need.” Mouthing you through your underwear before impatiently pulling it down to voraciously eat you out. Countless praises leave his lips while he pleasures you dutifully, moans of how your delightful taste and addicting flavor overflow in his mouth. Grinding his nose against your puffy clit, he nudges even closer as if trying to bury himself there—well he definitely wouldn’t mind dying right here, right now.
This was heaven.
He doesn’t stop sucking and licking you til you’ve reached your third orgasm, you wiggle for him to let go and he instantly moves away.
Face covered in blood and slick, he is filled with satisfaction. A grin is present on his face, showing off bloodied teeth as though he had just violently ripped into a bloody corpse, “Thank you, love.”
A happy sigh leaves him, “Oh I do hope you’re feeling better now.” A blush spreads across your face at his shamelessness but you nod down at him.
After that very incident where you had gifted him with a direct taste to your cunt for the first time, he became addicted, of course you still didn’t let his cock anywhere in you—he wasn’t worthy of that yet, or maybe never.
For now it was just a huge, useless hunk of meat that hung between his legs like a breeding stud.
One that—pathetically didn’t do any breeding.
Precious seed that could’ve been the next heir to his countless riches, heirs that people were waiting for, counting on to continue his prestigious bloodline—was spilled unapologetically daily at your command. He lets you do with him as you please, never once uttering a ‘No’ to whatever you wanted.
Did you want him to kneel before you for hours while he read to you? He’s already on his knees before you uttered a word.
Want him to eat you out every morning before you wake? a delicious toe-curling orgasm is the first thing that greets you in the morning, mouth obediently pleasuring you until you tell him to stop.
Are you in the mood to abuse his cock with whatever tool or torture method that piqued your interest that afternoon? He’ll provide you the tools and leave himself defenseless to your every touch.
—
One day he had come home to you, gifting him a handmade eyepatch in your favorite color—for the wound you preciously gave to him. He had eaten you out so ravenously that day, making you cum so many times you went cross-eyed. It was a miracle you could still feel your legs.
It was a known ’secret’ that you owned his very being. That you were now the new master of his everything. The holder of his heart and the owner of his soul.
He may be the lord of his mansion and countless faces that served him dutifully day and night, yet you are his one true goddess—his only reason for living.
The only reason he gets on his knees daily for worship, for confession,
For forgiveness.
Whether it’s between your legs where you bless him with your sweet juices, or letting him rut against your precious feet to get off like a desperate dog. And if he was really lucky, you would grant him with your golden shower, letting your sweet cunt release all over him when his begging finally pays off.
Dick hanging out of his pants untouched like an unwanted dirty thing, leaking all over the floor like an untrained mutt in heat while he licks up your pussylips, drinking up the slick and piss you allow him to. His lips latches onto your clit like a babe, sucking dutifully til you bless him with your cum, he comes just as hard as soon as your release hits his face. Cock twitching helplessly with every spray of cum that leaves his cockhead, leaving a nasty puddle underneath you.
He hopes you will order him to lick it up while you step on his head like the pig he is.
He loves the feeling of your spent filling his senses. Practically inhaling your cunt til you yourself have to yank him away lest he passes out due to the lack of oxygen entering his airways again.
He wants you to leave your mark all over him, permanent ones if you will, pleading you to press harder everytime you dig your nails ever so deep into his skin. Wishing you’d choke him til he lost consciousness and your marks are evident all over his neck which he’d wear proudly.
He wants you to break him.
God, he wishes you would just break him like he was nothing.
Reshape and mold him into the form that you desire.
And he knows it’s only a matter of time til you do.
He can’t wait for the day he truly becomes worthy of being ‘Yours’.
END
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