Chapter Text
Agony; it’s the word that paints itself in your head as you awake. Your head is throbbing, your stomach threatening to upend itself, you’re pretty sure you have a broken rib, and your very skin feels as if it’s made of shattered glass. Only one eye manages to open, hesitantly eyeing your surroundings.
They haven’t changed since your last coherent memory. A small cell with an uncomfortable cot, food that looked well past its prime, and a spot where you might be able to relieve yourself. You’d really fucked up this time, hadn’t you?
Blearily, you close your eyes. Perhaps sleep will take you away, bring you a false sense of escape. Who had even put you in here? You never got a good look at the face. It was a pitch black night, no moon in the sky to offer its guidance. That paired with the dark robe and inhumanly strong hands of your captor had left you at a bit of an impasse. You could blindly fight and certainly die, or let them lead you here and still meet a grizzly fate.
You’re unable to fall back to sleep. It’s quiet in a way that truly unsettles you. Never have you been somewhere quite so silent as this; were there even others? If there were, you couldn’t sense them. A more unsettling thought passes your mind on the matter, as you’re nearly certain when you strain your hearing, there is a faint drip.
Not quite an idiot, you’ve placed where you are. You’d always wanted to visit the castle, since you were a little girl. Rocking on your feet and babbling, you had said you wanted to see inside. Your parents, ever the type to shelter, had told you that it was a bad idea on the premise that a very grouchy lady owned it. They’d warned you to stay away with childish words and gestures, insisting that it was of the utmost importance that the mean woman not get her hands on you.
You’d retained this for a whole five seconds before finding out she had daughters. There weren’t many girls in the village, and you’d sworn if you could befriend her girls she might grow to like you. Desperate for companionship, you’d insisted you were certain in this. How could women ever be cruel to other women, anyway?
However, when girls who were barely even adults had begun disappearing for that year, it was put into perspective. Your parents never confirmed nor denied Lady Dimitrescu’s involvement in the matter, unwilling to broach such a dower topic with you.
In some quiet way that only comes to you as an adult, you wonder why you’d always come back to the village. Running away seemed an adequate response when few of the girls ever returned, and the ones that did were never quite the same.
Feeling much like a child, one not quite as foolish as you had been, you curl into yourself on the bench. Everything hurts, you’re quite cold, and sound is beginning to creep into your cell. You miss the ominous silence immediately, each burst of laughter from upstairs making you curl further, until you’re a taught ball on this slab.
A door opens somewhere, nowhere you can place. You’re too disoriented, concussed potentially, to focus on such things.
“ Welcome home, mother! I found a girl in the woods today, and she’s just what you were looking for! “
She sounds so excited, as if telling her mother that she’d found her favorite wildflower blooming early. Somehow, you catch yourself smiling faintly. That is before the sickening strike hits you, spinning you on an emotional whirlwind.
The lady of the house is home, and you were the bouquet being offered.
You strain to hear the response, but it is not nearly as bombastic. It clicks in your head that it must’ve been the girl speaking who captured you. To say she found you in the woods isn’t quite the truth; you were on the outskirts trying to get fresh air, a late night stroll had never done you harm. The girls were often taken in the day, and so you’d come to trust the night.
An idiot; you’re a complete and utter idiot.
There’s the click of a latch, and you notice immediately you are no longer alone. How could you not with the sound of heels clicking against stone, and the happy babbling of the young woman who had snatched you? She’s filling her mother in on her day like an excited teenager, both biting with sarcasm and a genuine sense of pride at her accomplishments. A smooth, accented voice responds, but the words don’t reach your ears. Only the approving tone.
There aren’t many options in the way of hiding, and even if they were you don’t dare move. The body aches you could understand, as she’d not been gentle in slamming you to the ground, but you’re unsure if this is a concussion or pure stress causing your head throb.
Each step is louder, until they cease completely. You’re being watched, definitely by more than one person. You have to blink several times to get your eyes to work entirely, and when they do, you’re unsure what to make of what you see.
The young woman who had captured you looks to be just slightly older than you, her blonde hair framing her face. She’s beautiful, to say anything else would be a lie, but that does not cleanse your terror. You’re being gazed at with hunger, clear sadism, and just a little too much mirth. You’re a deer she dragged home to gut, at least, that is your interpretation.
It’s the woman beside her that really strikes you, however. Your sensibilities are thrown out of whack by the sheer existence of her. Her daughter, who if you recalled correctly had a few inches on you, comes up to her waist. There’s no way that she’s human, unless she’s suffering from some sort of affliction. If it weren’t the height that gives it away, it’s the amber glow to her eyes as she leans down to appraise you.
You’re caught gazing at her, despite yourself. You should be utterly horrified, aware of your incoming fate, and to some extent you are. What beats at your skull far louder though ends up being your libido. Damned hormones, this is so not the time for this shit.
She enters the room, which makes your entire body tense. Kneeling carefully next to the not-quite-a-bed, she looks closer at you. Her size is now more palpable, alarming. People had always told you that no one knew quite how large wolves were until they were placed in front of one. Imagine what you think the size would be and double it, says the voice in the back of your head. It was used as a badge of pride to live in an area where you were more than certain the size of a grown wolf.
Gatekeeping the fear of being approached by a true predator; utterly quaint.
“ Did she hurt you too terribly? “
Being addressed so closely makes your stomach feel odd; a mix of sheer panic and butterflies. Her voice lilts slightly in near amusement at the question posed to you. The accent soothes yet bristles you, makes you focus a little more than you should.
“ Can’t remember, everything hurts. “
You manage it through your dry throat. Water, you really need water.
A large hand passes gently over your cheek, almost comforting in its weight. It would be, at least, if her palm wasn’t practically the size of your head.
You’re trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, downright shuddering in terror, but she doesn’t seem to care. Each caress is measured, slow, acutely aware of its effect on you. Are you a nervous child being comforted, or a mouse about to have a heart attack from pure terror of the cat?
“ Poor little girl. My Bela has a tendency to be rough. You’re actually quite lucky; no broken bones or deep cuts from what I can tell. “
That was a rollercoaster. Her first statement had made you blush, feel a weird pull in your chest you couldn’t quite place. The secondary part had made your blood run cold. Broken bones? Deep cuts?
“ I tried to be gentle with her, momma. I swear. “
You’re almost grateful for your potential concussion, because at least you can blame that for your lack of understanding. This woman, whose face has a thin layer of blood on it, had just softly called the woman before you ‘momma’ like she was still a child.
She hums softly, still so intent on touching you. Her hands slip to shift your clothing, and panic crosses you.
“ You’re cradling the area below your breast; let me make sure your ribs are intact. ”
The finality of her statement makes you shiver, and you unfurl just enough to help her. Each shift aches, but you’re distracted by her removing your clothing. Not just your shirt and bra, but everything. You feel your lungs threatening to make you hyperventilate, just barely managing to contain your panic.
“ Shh. ”
You glance anxiously towards the door, where the daughter still stands. She looks different now; tense, pupils dilated, eyes just a bit lidded. It takes you more than a moment to realize that she’s aroused by this, by watching her mother strip you and your terror. Her eyes flit over your body, taking in everything she can in a quick motion.
“ You may leave now, Bela. ”
She clears her throat, trying to regain her bearings.
“ Yes, mother. ”
Her voice is resigned, and she glances back at you on her way out. Your kidnapper wants to fuck you; isn’t that just an added layer of fun here.
The fingers that had stroked tenderly through your hair run up your waist now, to the spot you’d been trying to hide. She presses around the area, and you have to hold your breath to keep from showing how much that hurts.
“ Deep breath. ”
You listen, inhaling fully.
“ Your rib isn’t broken, but you are going to have quite a few bruises come the next few days. ”
“ How do you know? ”
“ A significant lack of sobbing or shrieks of pain on your part when I put pressure on the area, and your breathing sounded unhindered. ”
You’re covering yourself, shyly attempting to keep hidden away. You thank the realm for basic social modesty, because there’s no way you’d be able to explain the slickness between your thighs. How could you explain that despite feeling like roadkill, the act of this woman undressing you and her daughter’s gaze had made you fidgety.
“ I think I should inspect you more thoroughly. Make sure nothing else is… Damaged. ”
You don’t know what to make of that statement. The pause seemed odd, out of place in her confidence. As if she was searching for the correct words.
Her hands brush the undersides of your breasts, a sensitive spot near your hip, the undersides of your knees and you have to fight the urge to tremble and whimper. The pain is fading as she caresses you, the act of human, or at least human adjacent, contact bringing you comfort. You feel yourself relaxing, despite everything about this situation being horrific and dangerous.
“ You submit so easily, little darling. You haven’t even fought me about your clothing. ”
She cups your wrist, pulling it near to her. She kisses your hand softly, slowly. Each kiss shifts to a different part of your hand; from dorsal to palm, your fingers, the space below your thumb. She’s sinking lower to gently caress your inner wrist with an open mouth. The tenderness she is exuding baffles you, but you feel too oddly blissed out to think on the matter.
Which is why it takes you a second to process the sudden, searing pain in your arm. You don’t scream, though how you manage not to is incredible. Her teeth are buried in your arm, and it feels like when you took a tumble into a treefall as a young child. The prodding, stabbing pain almost too much to bear, you begin to tear up. She pulls her mouth back just enough to begin lapping at the wounds she has created, and the shock of realizing you will have a scar shaped like this woman’s teeth manages to numb you for a moment. Quite a large scar, at that.
“ Good girl. So well behaved. You’ll be mi- fine. ”
Her words are muddled, coming out slow with some sort of pleasure, heavy and breathy. That is not the noise one makes while enjoying a meal. It’s heady, dazed, almost… sexual. Oddly patient, but sexual nonetheless.
It makes you ache. The pain in your arm is beginning to become more tolerable as she feeds from you, you can’t help but assume it’s something in her saliva. Or maybe you’re just more of a masochist than you thought; it would not much surprise you given the night you’ve had.
Maybe she was right about you.
She looks up at you with the most intense gaze you’ve ever received, burning you from the very fiber of your being, singeing even the thought process. When she retreats, she lets out a labored sigh, reaching for your discarded shirt to wipe her mouth with. You should probably be more worried about the wound than the shirt, but you can’t help but feel slightly offended.
“ Wait. ”
She shifts from the floor, leaving the room with a loud creak and nearly a click.
You think to look for some way to stifle the bleeding, but she’s back with a first aid kit quickly. She patches you up as if this were just a wound clumsiness had left upon your arm, giving it a gentle peck over the bandages as if to say; “ See? All better. “
You’re too anxious to ask proper questions, except the one pounding so loudly in your head that you can’t handle it anymore.
“ What’re you going to do to me? ”
This is when the tears hit. Not like the slight drip you’d use to keep pipes from freezing, but a waterfall from your eyes.
“ I’ve yet to decide, so be on your best behavior. You’ve behaved well enough tonight to warrant a proper bed and a meal, though. Usually there’s much more screaming, and fruitless attempts at batting me away. ”
Usually. As in this happens often. You feel sick again, but that might be the blood loss talking. She stands, and forces you to as well. Walking is painful, but the promise of food and a bed makes it tantalizing.
You don’t ask about your clothes. You’re pretty sure they’re unwearable anyway.
The room she places you in is not nearly as cold as the cellar, and for that you’re immediately grateful. It’s still claustrophobic in a way you can’t quite place, but the ability to curl up in a bed and enjoy a warm meal is a relief.
“ I’ve things to attend to. I’ll see you soon enough, but for now you ought to clean yourself up and eat. After that, you are to rest. Am I understood?
It’s a mom tone, which is such a stark contrast to everything that has happened tonight. You try to remind yourself she has multiple daughters and that is natural before nodding stiffly. She presses a kiss to your forehead and departs, leaving you to sort through the mixed emotions this has all poured onto you.
It’s when you’re trying to sleep again that the thoughts invade your head. Not the ones of fleeing, nor the horror of the situation. It’s the ones you’re trying so hard not to have. Her touch skimming your body, the sensual way she’d kissed your hand before ravaging your arm, the mixed emotions of being called a good girl for submitting to her. It was done of pure terror and inability to fight, you tell yourself. That’s it. No other reason.
The ache between your thighs begs to disagree. You’d not gotten to focus on her scent, how she smells of the woods, quality tobacco, and expensive perfume. Nor the utter lust riddled gaze she’d given you post blood consumption. Literal bloodlust? Sadism? You’re unclear. Not to mention the outline of her curves in that white dress.
A flash of the way Bela, at least you think that was the name, looked at you last night passes over your eyes. You curl into yourself, trying to ignore the fact that you want her to watch you take care of this ache. Maybe both of them. God, what has gotten into you?
Shame creeps through you as your hand shyly nestles between your thighs. You’re wet, embarrassingly so, and the slickness coats your fingers easily. You can’t help but immediately aim for your clit, unable to handle teasing yourself. Your other hand finds purchase on your breast, playing with your hardened nipple. When you roll it, you feel the shock all the way down to your other set of fingertips.
You shift angles, trying to get into a better position, forgetting to be shameful or even mindful of your actions. Whimpering, rutting, trying so desperately to find release with her image stuck in your mind.
Your hand stops abruptly as a distinct sound fills the room. A key unlocking your door, and that door swinging open. She finds you there as a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide and hands full of yourself. For a moment, you swear you see her lose her composure. It slips for just a second, eyes fluttering at the sight before her.
“ L-Lady Dimitrescu, I… I’m so sorry, I’m so embarrassed. Pl- ”
“ I don’t recall telling you that you could pleasure yourself, girl. ”
You hate how much the statement makes your cunt ache that much more. Your hands move quickly away from yourself, getting the feeling there was a threat under that statement. You had no idea she wanted you to ask. Fuck, how would you even ask? Look all the way up at her, head tilted far back, and beg in your tiny voice to please let you masturbate whilst thinking about her? Even worse, the flash of her daughter?
“ I’m sorry, ma’am. ”
“ No need to worry, darling. I have things to help girls like you. ”
She looks at you so deviously that you wonder if she was going to do whatever it is she has planned regardless of catching you. She closes in on you, leaning down to your level. It takes quite a bit of effort, but eventually she finds an angle to make eye contact properly.
“ You belong to me, and by extension, so does your pleasure. I can’t have you slipping up like that again, you have to understand, dear. “
“ What are you going to do to me? ”
For the second time this evening, your voice trembles out the question. She crooks her fingers in a ‘ come hither ‘ motion, enticing you to listen. You can’t help but imagine those long fingers inside of you, playing at your sensitive spots so powerfully. Fuck, would they even fit?
“ Come to the edge of the bed. Now. ”
A moment passes after you obey her of stillness, just staring at you with intent that terrifies you. She’s making you squirm in place, eyes darting away.
“ You’re going to stay right here. No hiding, no attempting to escape. ”
She leaves the room, and leaves the door wide open. You pray that no one walks by, given your splayed nature. Time seems to tick by so unbearably slowly, every second feeling more like an entire minute in your head. When she returns, she’s clutching multiple things behind her back, and looking at you as she did right before sinking her teeth into you.
“ I think I have a way to keep your hands off what is mine. “
Her voice purrs, entirely too pleased with herself. She rests a few items beside you, and you realize very quickly what she means. That…
“ I came here to explain the rules to you; pity you’ve already broken one. You were such a good girl about everything else. “
There’s a pull somewhere inside you, and you’re unable to discern whether it’s emotional or physical. The way she purrs the words good girl makes your mind hazy, feeling like you’re sinking.
“ I’m sorry, I had no idea, ma’am. “
“ Are you frantic because of genuine remorse, or because you’ve seen the chastity belt? “
She’s trying not to laugh at you, and you have so many questions about this entire situation. What had Bela meant in saying you were akin to what she was searching for? Why does she even have a chastity belt in her possession? Oh god, had it been on someone else before?
“ Two things can simultaneously be correct. “
“ You look so confused, dear. Do you think I’ve not had little sluts who’ve wanted to ruin themselves before? I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to fold quite so quickly. “
Her tone is nonchalant, as if talking about the weather, but your brain sticks on part of this. Not the part where she slandered you, but the word ruin. Ruin themselves for what?
“ Ruin themselves, lady dimi… dimitr… I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know how to say your surname.”
She pulls you into a sitting position, and kneels so you can in theory see eye to eye. It makes you nervous, fidgety, but she cups your face so you can’t retreat.
“ I’ll only say it once, so pay attention. It’s pronounced as Dee-muh-tresk. I’d think you’d know the proper way to say it, but it happens far more frequently than not. “
“ Lady Dimitrescu. “
You try the name out, and she gives you a smile of approval. In theory, this woman is a monster from what you’ve been told, but she has daughters. At least one of them utterly adores her, which implies to you she knows full well how to use positive reinforcement.
“ Good girl. You’ll be referring to me as that from now on, or mistress. Ma’am does sound fetching coming out of your mouth, but it’s not my preference. “
“ Yes, mistress. “
“ Catch on quick, do you? Good. Keep it that way. “
You wonder for a moment if you can catch conversation with her, distract her from the task at hand. However, she seems to sense you trying to inch your way from her grasp.
“ Stay still. I assure you, you’d prefer it to me holding you still. “
There’s no room for questioning in her voice. You nod stiffly, settling where you are.
Don’t think about how close she is to you. Don’t think about your lack of clothing. Think instead about this woman who is holding you against your will, and putting you in a god damned chastity belt as if you’ve gone back in time. Think about how easily she could kill you, that smirk she gives when you’re squirming, how tightly she holds your thigh…
Fuck. Don’t think about any of that. Don’t think in general, your body is betraying you. There’s no way she can’t tell from this close.
“ Does the idea of me taking your pleasure away turn you on so much that you must make a mess? “
You want to apologize, but her tone tells you that it was rhetorical and she cares not for your answer. You try your best not to squirm in place, and she sighs.
“ Let me make things clear now as opposed to later. You’re to do as I say; I am not the most patient woman and require you to listen. You’re not allowed to leave the castle unless I or one of my daughters are with you, I can’t have you running off. And as far as this goes… “
Her fingertips sensually stroke over your sex, making you gasp in a mix of shock, horror, and unbearable desire. You wish you could hide how much you want her, but you know your face betrays you.
“ You get satisfaction when I want you to have it. Not when you’re squirming like a little whore after my feedings, nor whatever fantasies are bouncing around in your skull, and certainly not when other stimuli gets you going. You’ve already proved you can’t keep your hands to yourself, so I’m going to have to do something about that. “
Technically, they were toward yourself, but you don’t dare be pedantic right now. You try not to blush, or even react to the implication that you’re going to be suffering without release for unknown stretches of time. Nor the fact that she implied something other than her might be tormenting you soon. Even as your stomach ties itself in knots.
“ Yes, mistress. I understand. “
“ Don’t sound so resigned, pet. You might even enjoy this, given your proclivity for masochism. “
Being called out like that so directly is frustrating, but you don’t fight. You’re pretty sure this woman could pull your head from your shoulders if she desires. Best not to piss off the person holding the gun.
She slips the uncomfortably stiff covering over you. It’s mostly a dense leather that comes up over your waist, but leads down to a metal plate that covers the areas that ache to be touched. You have so many questions that you’re too humiliated to ask regarding this, feeling defeated as you hear the distinct click of a small padlock.
You want to go to bed suddenly, to curl into a ball and try to ignore that you were a kidnapping victim in a 16th century torture device, though the legitimacy of it was in the air on that front.
Her eyes are lingering on it, flickering with distinct flames of arousal. She looks like she wants to devour you, and given she’d just covered the area you would most enjoy, fear filters through your system.
There’s a small stack of clothing among the items still on the bed, but she moves them to the side for now. She leans close, so close you can feel her breath against you.
“ You’re still going to be punished for touching what is mine. “
“ Punished? Isn’t the belt the punishment, mistress? “
Her lips brush your ear, breathing out slowly, and your hands tighten in the blankets. You can feel her smirk, the devious satisfaction of what she is about to do to you.
“ How is it a punishment if I don’t make you regret getting put in it first?”
Realization sinks into your system, heart pounding rapidly against your chest. You want to beg her not to tease you, not to deny you like she’s going to, but the idea of her touching you is…
Her hands are so large compared to yours. Her size is obvious, but the fact that your entire stretched out hand can easily fit in her palm is a little terrifying. You’re fairly well endowed, and yet her hands dwarf your breasts. She purrs a bit, either pleased with how soft they are or how you arch into the pressure.
You want to try not to moan just on principle. You’d folded to all of her whims so easily up until this point, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that this mind bendingly large woman had such absolute control over you already.
Her lips are soft, pillowy, and leave a trail of lipstick across your skin. Your attempts to fight her are becoming more futile by the second, as she’s sucking and nipping at the shell of your ear, and then just beneath it.
You hate that she’s already figuring out how to make you writhe. Her nails trace your lower back, drawing sparks through your body. For a moment, they almost seem too sharp, but she must’ve just been applying more pressure.
“ I’m feeling a bit peckish. “
You freeze, thinking of how ungodly painful the bite had been. This is when the logical panic sets in, and you find yourself nearing tears at the thought of her teeth tearing so violently into you.
“ Yes, mistress. “
Your words shake, riddled with emotion. What you don’t expect from her is the way her hand caresses the area she theoretically is going to bite. Instead, something far sharper skids over your shoulder. Did she have a knife? Where did she pull it from?
And then her mouth is on you, sucking in the wound that stings fairly badly. However, it feels… different this time. The discomfort fades much faster, and is overtaken by a dizzying sense of desire.
“ You really are such a good girl. “
You don’t realize it, but you’d started moaning while she fed from you. You try to fight off your own masochism, telling yourself it's how her hands seem to know just how to press that is making you melt to a puddle. Between that and the swipes of her tongue, you feel weak.
“ Thank you, mistress. “
You wonder how the others could have fought something that feels this good. Your mind feels like it’s floating as she whispers pet names to you, and takes what she wants. She’s using you thoroughly, but you can’t be bothered to care. Your hips try to rub into anything, to get any sort of friction against your needy cunt, but the belt takes any chance of relief from you immediately.
Your whimpers turned into distressed cries as the need became overwhelming. There’s no way she’s been teasing you that long, but it feels like an eternity. Her mouth has creeped lower, pressing to your navel, and then the spots the chastity belt doesn’t quite cover. She’s so close to where you need her, her tongue playing at the spot where the inner thigh meets groin. Her tongue is so broad that it’s too much, you’re going to go crazy from this.
She presses your rocking hips down with one hand, which is pretty easy considering it covers your abdomen. Your eyes have been closed for several minutes now, knowing the visual will be too much to handle. But that hand makes your eyes open just as she commands you to look at her.
“ Eyes on me. Now. “
You look down at her, your vision hazy, and what you see makes you want to roll your eyes back. Those amber eyes stare intensely up towards your face. Her own is partially not visible, buried between your thighs. You can see how close her mouth is to your throbbing clit, and the need for her is almost painful. She rests her palm over the metal plating, letting her long fingers rest across your mound and a fair amount of your tummy. You understand the implication immediately, but you’d be the first to admit it’s equally horrifying as it is arousing.
“ Please, mistress. “
You cry it out, unable to take it anymore. She rests her head against your thigh, watching you with a quirked brow.
“ Now, why in the world would I do that? “
“ Please, please mistress. You said I’ve been a really good girl and taken all of this very well, right? Please, I need it. “
How had she broken you down to this point so rapidly? You’re pleading as if you’ve been her collared submissive for months, not as if her daughter had violently snatched you to offer like a sacrifice.
“ You are. You’ve had the most interesting reaction to me feeding from you; so much more shrieking and thrashing with the others. I’ve not even had to restrain you yet, even when I was purposefully brutal. However… naughty girls get punished, and they certainly don’t get to climax. “
Your hips jerk towards her touch nonetheless as she idly teases you, and it earns you a slap on the inner thigh. You yelp loudly; if that was a warning spank then you’re very glad that had not been the punishment she chose.
“ I’m sorry, mistress, it’s just so overwhelming. “
“ Hmm… how about this, sweet girl. If you can figure out a way to get off while wearing that, you're more than welcome to the orgasm. Give me a show, it’s been a while since I had proper entertainment with my meal. “
She moves to sit in a nearby chair, leaning forward with an attentive gaze.
You stare confused at her, and she gestures at you that she’s waiting. You wipe the small tears from your eyes, and give it your best attempt. You test what the pressure feels like, and find it’s just curved enough to only put pressure on your outer lips. She watches as the horror dawns on you.
“ Oh honey. How about this; you’ve been such a good girl with everything else that I’ll give you an advantage. There’s a vibrator in the stack on the bed side table. You’re welcome to try it. ”
You find it quickly, only half realizing that it’s odd she brought the sex toy to begin with. Or even that she had one.
The sound of it clicking on makes you shudder. It’s a small wand, but the sound lets you know it’s strong. Hesitantly, you press it to the covering, knowing it may not be a pleasant sound.
The vibrations travel, but not far enough. The realization makes you want to cry, the brief spark of hope being dashed. You rut against the toy, trying desperately, and get nowhere. You try again where the strip thins out, but reach a similar result.
You press the toy to the side of your labia that is still revealed, and that’s the closest thing you get to proper pleasure. She watches you all the while, clearly enjoying the show greatly. You let out the most pitiful cry of frustration, and she digs her teeth into her lower lip for half a second. If you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it. You wedge the toy between yourself and the bed to better rub against it, and still get the most minimal of sensations.
“ Poor baby. So close, but so far, isn’t it? “
She’s not asking anything. You nod regardless, attempting so desperately to get more pleasure out of this. You even try pulling at the belt a little, but can’t clear nearly enough space.
For nearly half an hour, she watches as you grow more desperate. You find a spot that is almost enough to take the edge off, but then the worst comes to pass. The vibrator stops. Dead batteries. You look at her with helpless, teary eyes, hoping to appeal to the part of her that raised little girls who would pout.
“ Couldn’t quite get there. Maybe next time. ”
The idea of a next time both makes you want to cry and fills you with a weird sense of hope.
She climbs out of the chair, stretching like a pleased cat. Her dress raises slightly with the motion, all that fabric drawing your eyes to her curves. She settles next to you, her hand coming to rest on the belt.
“ I’ll take this off of you, but you have to be a good girl. “
“ Really? “
“ Mhhm. “
It’s a test. You know it is. She leans over carefully, flashing you her breasts in the process, and attends to removing it. Despite knowing this is definitely a test of obedience, you have to wonder if she has some sort of ulterior motive for it.
“ If I catch you touching yourself without permission again, this will be going back on, and having it there will be the least of your concerns. “
She draws it off, and offers you the clothes. It’s a simple night gown and a pair of panties, but you’re unbelievably thankful for both. Putting the underwear on is… interesting. The moment they touch you, you become hyper aware of how they cling to your slickness.
“ Mother, you’re need- “
You thank the very skies themselves that this girl had not entered even a moment earlier. This woman, definitely not Bela given her auburn hair, freezes in the doorway.
“ Daniela, darling. What is it? “
She’s gripping the doorframe tightly, eyes wild and terrifying. You swear you hear it faintly crack from her efforts.
“ Can I play with her? “
“ Absolutely not. She’s fragile, and you haven’t quite learned not to kill things you play with. “
Terror washes over you hard enough to scare off your desperation. You find yourself slinking towards the edge of the bed, hoping to avoid her coming anywhere near you. She takes a step into the room, eyes flashing dangerously in the low lighting.
“ She smells good. Like she really wants a friend to play with. I could make her feel better. “
“ I said no, Daniela. ”
“ … Yes, mother. I’m sorry for questioning you. “
“ That’s a good girl. Now, what is it you needed? “
“ Uhm… Cassie asked me to tell you that mother Miranda called. Said it was her usual drivel, but that you should call her back. “
“ Of course she did. Why that woman has to call me every ten minutes is beyond me; things are fine. “
She rubs her temples in frustration, making you take her in with concern. Why are you concerned for this woman? What the hell is happening in your head?
“ I’ll come back later, pet. Keep what I said in mind; you will regret it dearly if you don’t. “
“ Yes, Lady Dimitrescu. ”
She leans down like she’s going to kiss your forehead again, perhaps a way to incline you to believe she’ll be gentle if you’re good. She catches your lips instead, practically consuming your mouth with the immediate depth of the kiss. Your hands cling to her dress as hers slip into your hair, tilting your head up for better access.
She pulls abruptly away, and you want to chase her. You want more of the kissing now, please. Her daughter is still in the room, which is a little awkward, but she says nothing on the matter.
“ Get some sleep. Be a good girl while I’m away. Being adorable won’t save you forever. ”
The door clicks shut before you can respond, leaving you alone once more. You fall back onto the bed, pulling a pillow over your face to let out a scream hopefully no one will hear. Your body is starting to hurt again now that you’re not being caressed and tormented, or watched while you do so to yourself. You’re dizzied, your core is shaking, and you’re so horny you could die.
If this is day one, how in the hell are you going to keep yourself sane?