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darkittensniper · 1 year ago

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Sweet Divorce, dark Obsession, Love to come

Donna Beneviento x Daniela Dimitrescu

Donna sees her, and she knows; she must have her. She must claim what is hers.

Partly NSFW, Stalking, Manipulation, Top Donna, Bottom Daniela, Obsession, twisted intentions and falling in love quickly, a long post

Could probably be considered a part in a Stalker Donna x Dimitrescu series. Bela’s part can be found: here

Masterlists

Donna Beneviento is said to be many things.

A crafter of beautiful dolls, tiny clothing, and tools. A scientist and doctor, interested in exploring every little substance and every unique thing in detail. A botanist, collecting and using dozens of flowers and their pollen to her advantage. Now, those are all noble titles.

She also is a puppeteer, however, controlling and manipulating, shaping and guiding all to fit into the plot she has designed for them. She is an observer, quiet and appearing meek, and it helps her blend in with the shadows perfectly.

And she sees no reason not to blend in with them, to observe from afar, to study, to watch. She never allows an opportunity to pass by, but rarely recognizes opportunities as worth her time and effort.

This, is about to change, when a single, special woman catches her dark eye.

A regular day, a regular visit, nothing out of the ordinary, all is as usual. This is what Donna believed that day was going to be. After all, why wouldn’t she? After all, every previous visit has been just that. Arriving at the castle, a greeting by Alcina, an offering of tea and biscuits before Donna could get to work.

Never anything else. Never any disruptions, never anything out of the ordinary.

That was, until today, when it changes, when Donna sits in the room provided to her as usual, the cracked open window allowing fresh, warm air to fill the room.

Only this time, it’s different.

This time, she hears a cry. A cry so desperate, so pure, so helpless, so passionate. More follow, and more.

Her curiosity rises, she must know where this sound is originating from.

Donna rises from her desk, the thick, white dress from her lap momentarily forgotten. Alcina would have to show patience, there are more pressing matters at hand as of just now.

“What are you doing? This isn’t any of our business!”, Angie scolds, but Donna can’t find it within her to care. She wants to find out about this noise. She needs to discover its origin.

She stands slowly, her fingers grasping and opening the window fully in a fluid motion. Immediately, the sounds become a little louder. It’s a woman’s cry. A lover’s cry.

When looking below, she at last finds the source of such dainty cries. A woman indeed, of auburn hair, sunken to her knees at the castle’s gardens. She looks almost angelic, surrounded by flowers and white. The seamstress can’t make out the woman’s features, nor her face.

“Can we get back to our work now? I want to get home!”, Angie complains, but the brunette pays her no mind. No, returning to the manor, or working, is not an option now.

Her eyes wander to the white halo surrounding the creature- a large, expensive dress. She recognizes it, the puffy sleeves, the long skirt, the thin waist, the pale colour. Only is it now dirtied by the mud and dirt of the ground beneath and dark red smears of blood.

The woman keeps weeping. It’s a small part of Donna that feels pity for her, for whatever must have happened. Yet a larger, much larger part of her finds itself fascinated and drawn in by the sound.

She did not think she’d find such a pure and raw sound at Castle Dimitrescu.

No, all work has to wait. She needs to investigate.

Adjusting the vail over her head again, she quickly makes for the way down to the gardens. Passing staff pays her little attention, and her equally so to them. Walking in shadows, as she always does.

She finds the entrance to the gardens fast, despite just rarely spending time at the castle to fix one of the countess’s dresses in exchange for rare and precious fabrics and wood.

Only this time she is not after such things.

She walks outside, the sun hitting her eye even through the mourning garb. But she can’t bring herself to pay any mind to it this time, when she would normally grow annoyed.

Instead, her dark eye is set entirely on the beautiful woman on the ground in the middle of the field. Clutching a single rose to her, red, she weeps to herself.

She doesn’t even seem to notice her, until Donna kneels down right in front of her, her knees hovering over the dirty ground.

“L-Lady Beneviento”, the woman speaks. Her voice is soft, her lips even more so. Donna finds herself staring at the woman in front of her. Up this close, she can make out her features properly.

Her auburn hair, slightly sticky and messy with blood, some sticking to her wet cheeks, the rest ascending down her back and shoulders.

Strong, golden eyes, wide and beautifully teary, almost gleaming in the sunlight. Donna finds herself lost in them easily.

A button nose, soft as the rest of the woman, a little red and wet from her endless crying.

Her plump lips. Unpainted, but smeared with blood and tears. Her cheeks are equally wet and sticky with tried and wet tears, some remaining makeup is smeared against them. Donna admires the shape of them, the beautiful tear streaks they created.

What catches her eye though is the black rose tattooed on the woman’s forehead. This beautiful creature is no mere maid, no staff member, no prisoner escaped from the infamous Dimitrescu dungeon, but one of the countess’s daughters herself.

Donna searches her mind for an answer to her own questions. Daniela, was it not? She never officially met the three sisters, only ever heard Alcina speak so very fondly of them.

Ah, but she remembers the stories about Daniela, the youngest of the three. How often she would fall in love and get her precious little heart broken. It seems, this is a similar situation.

Daniela watches silently, her teary eyes wide, her bottom lip quivering a little.

“La-Lady Beneviento”, she greets again, her voice shaky and cracking from the tears that still run down her soft and round cheeks.

Never before has she seen such a marvellous creature.

Donna understands all in an instant.

She must know more of her.

She must get to know her.

She must have her.

Her hand reaches out, icy cold, strong fingers coming up to grasp Daniela’s chin. The woman doesn’t struggle against her hold in the slightest, instead merely keeps on whimpering a little.

Donna eyes the flower clutched in her hand, her mind burning with envy. Surely, this must be for someone else. Surely, someone else has hurt this beautiful creature.

Possessively, almost, she extends her other arm and snatches the flower from the auburn haired woman. Daniela gasps sweetly at the quick movement and for a moment Donna hears the flies she is said to be made of buzz almost aggressively before they calm.

The rose is tossed aside, leaving the younger woman’s hand slightly bloodied, but empty.

Instead, Donna plucks one of the pink roses from the ground.

Daniela’s cries have quieted down a little, her attention turned to the Lord in front of her. Never has she met a Lord of the village, save for Alcina of course.

She feels intimidated and a fluttery feeling in her stomach all the same. Despite having her heart broken mere hours ago, her lover, her fiancée, murdered by her sister after an unsuccessful attempt of escape, she already feels her heart sing again.

Perhaps, this is a sign? Daniela resists the urge to shake her head. No, Mother keeps telling her, she falls too fast. No, Bela keeps reminding her, she’s naive, she’s young, she’s gullible. She keeps falling for the wrong people. No, for Cassandra insists Daniela is too clouded by the bubble of false promises and expectations from fantasy books to ever hold a proper relationship.

And still, she feels a flutter at her chest, being this close to the Lord. She feels lightheaded almost, like a foolish, young maid again, this close to the older woman, with her fingers grasping her chin and keeping her eyes set on her.

Only, she wishes she could see the face behind the veil. She wonders how the woman looks below it, what features she is hiding.

Despite her tears, her face burns bright pink and warm when the silent woman raises the rose and plucks each thorn from it. She then raises it to Daniela’s face, and she shivers at the unfamiliar, but welcomed touch when the flower is set behind her ear.

She hears the doll maker’s heart beat quietly beneath her chest, a wild contrast to her own, fast heartbeat.

Donna smirks underneath the veil. Daniela is proving very cooperative. She watches golden eyes flicker across her, searching for her face, over and over again. She might just grant the poor thing a look sometime in the future.

As her hand retracts, the brunette’s fingers brush lightly against the Dimitrescu’s hair. Soft, again, and warm from the sun hitting it for the past hour or so.

Donna smiles again. Yes, she must have her.

After all, who would make a better doll for her than Daniela Dimitrescu?

In the days to come, Donna finds herself at the castle increasingly more often.

While sometimes she lets Alcina know of this, at other times she merely sticks to herself, unnoticed, invisible almost. After all, she rarely finds herself in the company of the Lady of the house, nor her daughters, who she has found out spend their days out hunting.

All, except little Daniela, who is usually away for half a day before retreating to the library; a routine Donna has been able to see and figure out within the first week.

She watches from afar most of the time.

When hunting, Donna likes to create beautiful illusions of the thickest, quickest, healthiest animals. A perfect prey. A perfect trap. Of course, Daniela adapts to this eagerly, changing her hunting grounds and gradually pushing more into Donna’s territory, while rarely staying within Castle grounds.

During the time her doll is out, hunting whatever catches her eye, Donna reaches out using her pollen.

She fills her love’s mind with her scent and the thoughts of her, until the poor thing is too distracted and flustered to even hit her prey with a simple attack of her sickle.

This usually means Daniela is left panting and blushing wildly, oblivious as to why her head is full of the thought of the Lord and her scent is strong as though she had smelled it a thousand times over.

Sometimes, Donna gets lucky. Sometimes, her pollen has an almost aphrodisiac-like effect on her doll.

Then, she watches hungrily from afar as Daniela neglects whatever creature she was chasing in order to lean back against a tree, hike up her dress and shove her fingers in her underwear.

Such as she is doing today, with her head thrown back and quiet moans and whimpers passing soft lips.

Donna almost feels it, almost smells it. She considers helping her sweet doll out already as she is helplessly and clumsily rutting against her own fingers. But still, no matter how clumsy and careful Daniela is, her sharp nails take away a lot of the fun and barely help with the brimming heat and wetness between her thighs.

Ah, but Donna could to better. Being the seamstress that she is, she is more than skilled enough with her fingers to bring her sweet redhead to ecstasy over and over again.

She begins to crave Daniela’s moans. Her pollen reaches out a little more, just enough for her to slip inside the woman’s mind unnoticed.

She groans lowly under her breath. She almost feels the other woman’s need for pleasure and release. Instead of tending to it just yet, she opts for adding more to it.

Daniela whines and moans as images of the Lord flicker across her mind. Has she been thinking of her? She can’t recall, and doesn’t care either. She must have, if it’s in her mind, after all.

More and more, day after day after day, Donna fills more and more of her doll’s mind with images of her and her scent.

Daniela is completely used to it. She no longer picks up when Donna is near, too accustomed to the smell being around her at all times. And with her doll prepared, Donna is ready to make her moves.

She moves silently through the castle, her heart pounding a little. In her hand she grasps a basket, in the other her little doll companion’s hand. Every little fibre in her body calls to her, beckons her closer, urges her to keep going.

“What are we doing here?”, Angie asks. Was her voice not only in the doll maker’s mind, she would have hushed her companion.

With her friend in such a state, it’s almost as if the doll represents the small, sane part left of them. Alas, Donna no longer cares for sanity. She knows exactly what she wants and craves. What she needs to have.

“Don’t you think this is going too far? Let’s go home! They’ll catch us!”, Angie pleads. Yet, when the brunette woman only keeps walking, she follows behind quietly.

She stops only when she finds what she was looking for; a door, dark brown, with a small D engraved in gold in the middle of it.

Cautiously, she opens it. She’s completely quiet, but her breath quickens and an excited, almost sinister smile crosses her lips for a mere moment as she steps into the warm room.

Inside, she finds Daniela, sleeping peacefully. The beautiful creature is tucked beneath heavy, dark red sheets and surrounded by more pillows than Donna ever imagined someone had.

She trails her fingertips across the satin covers of the blanket. Daniela doesn’t even stir.

If she notices the new presence and scent in her room, she doesn’t give it much thought. After all, Donna is always with her. And there is no telling when she truly is next to her, and when she merely occupies her mind.

With each passing day Donna’s obsession grows, and with each Daniela’s love and dependance does, too.

Every little maid that caught her attention in this time was released and lost in the woods, where their pollen induced state led to their ultimate demise. Of course, Daniela doesn’t quite know this. Of course, even Alcina does not understand this little secret of Donna’s.

Of course, though, she is always there, always around, to comfort her doll when she cries so sweetly after losing another. And with every time the thought of Donna and the feel of warm caresses in her mind leave Daniela more and more smitten. Despite rarely having seen her since their first encounter, she feels already incredibly drawn to the older woman.

Donna smiles as the back of her fingers brush over her beautiful doll’s soft cheeks. She sleeps peacefully, content, perhaps even unaware of the actions and presences around her.

She moves from the bed, then. Crossing to her closet, she begins picking bits and pieces of clothing. Some dresses, some underwear, some stockings that aren’t in top shape anymore.

Instead, she gently takes the folded clothings from the basket and replaces the missing ones. Summer dresses are replaced by ones crafted by Donna herself, some representing house Beneviento subtly in their design and threads, some less subtly, such as pieces which have the very crest snitched into the waist piece.

She puts the taken clothing into her basket, ignoring the growing excitement in her chest. Only a little more, before she could claim her..

She steps closer to the bed again, her fingertips gliding across Daniela’s exposed shoulder before pulling something from the basket yet again. A flower, this time, shiny yellow.

“Do as I say”, she commands as she hands the flower to her doll companion. Although sighing, somewhat implying this can’t possibly be okay, Angie submits to the command and crushes the large petals directly under the sleeping woman’s bed.

Donna watches, enhanced, eagerly, as the pollen seems to rise. She holds her hand out in front of her, her eye closing.

She sees nothingness at first, then an image clears. Daniela, in her grace, skipping across a field and swarming in the sun with her sisters close behind her. A beautiful dream.

She sneaks into it, a woman standing in the fields. Daniela finds her in an instant, a wide smile on her lips. Yet, she gasps when suddenly clouds begin covering the sun and both her older sisters fade away. Still, her eyes are trained only on the dollmaker.

Donna moves as though in a blink, suddenly appearing behind the auburn haired woman. Her hands slide across her thighs, up to her hips. Daniela moans softly, even as her clothing begins to feel too tight on her.

She allows the woman to undress her, smooth, silky skin revealed more and more.

Donna groans. She yearns to reach out, to truly feel her soon-to-be lover.

Daniela moans softly as her clothing falls to the floor, the high grass tickling at her hips. She almost feels high, unaware of the sweet bliss coming only in form of a dream. She doesn’t question the many hands, some ghostly, two Donna’s, on her.

She feels them at her hips, her thighs. She moans breathily when they cup her large breasts and squeeze, two ghostly fingers pulling at her sensitive nipples.

Another pair slides between her legs, across her smooth thighs. Donna’s real hands, she notes dreamily.

With her head thrown back, Daniela sighs softly, then, a loud moan is pulled from her when the fingers push inside of her. She feels them, deep in, curling and pushing. Inside, across her clit, the palm of her lover’s hand smearing wetness all over her southern parts.

Donna feels her body tighten and her chest and pussy throb with want. She watches Daniela squirm on the bed, trapped, not unwillingly even, in her beautiful dream, constructed by her lover. She squirms and moans softly in her sleep. She watches as her hips raise and rock gently against the covers.

Daniela’s breathing turns faster, more desperate. The wind blows lightly against her face, somewhat helping her cool down even as her body grows hotter and hotter.

She whimpers and moans, slurry phrases and pleads passing soft lips the closer she gets. She feels it, the bubbly, light feeling, the rising pleasure.

She feels just how close she is. And then;

Donna pulls from the connection, a self satisfied smile passing from her lips as the woman whispers on the bed and a single, desperate tear runs down her cheek.

And as such, desperation and obsession, dependency and yearning rises and multiplies within Daniela for a final time…

Donna smirks confidently underneath her vail as she walks down the castle halls. She is unseen by most, bowed to by others. She could not care less about them, though.

She strides down the hall, then, upon arriving at the door with the golden D engraved on it, she opens it slowly.

As expected, Daniela’s eyes immediately flicker to her.

“Lady Beneviento”, she whispers, greets.

Donna smirks a little under the veil. She feels the power of her pollen all around the room. It has engulfed her little doll completely.

“A formal greeting to a Lord of the village starts with a bow”, she states, using the newly created bond to speak the command right within the other woman’s mind, rather than using her lips to convey the words.

Immediately, Daniela bends a little, her foot stepping forwards in a polite and almost regal bow.

“Lower”

Again, her darling Daniela follows her command in an instant. She bows lower, her head raised enough for golden eyes to meet Donna’s veiled face.

She whimpers lowly when a cool hand comes down to her chin. Donna cups her lower face gently, at first, then two fingers trap Daniela’s chin between them firmly.

She squirms in place, her entire body and all her flies buzzing, with electricity almost. She feels ready for the taking, ready to be reaped by her one and only love. She knows, it must be Lady Beneviento.

“Watch, my little doll”, Donna husks seductively. Daniela watches eagerly, her breath catching in her throat when one of Donna’s hands comes up and the veil is pulled up and left discarded on the small dresser by the door.

She feels almost lightheaded, both from the woman’s low and deep voice and the features of her face. A mix of harsh and soft curves, a dark eye, the other disfigured and scarred by the cadou.

She feels herself be pulled in closer already. This time, despite her shock, she needs to command or reminder to speak.

“You’re magnificent”, Daniela coos breathlessly. She received a sly smirk in return, then gasps upon feeling the same ghostly hands come up behind her.

Her face burns as she feels them grasp the hem of her nightdress and pull it up, revealing dark panties that leave little to imagination.

“I had a feeling you would show up…”, Daniela whispers shyly, her golden eyes, despite her shyness, set right on her lover:

“Strip, and kneel, little doll”, comes the Lord’s next command.

Again, Daniela does so eager and fast. She slides the panties down her smooth legs and steps out of them, then fully takes off the dress. She feels the ghostly pair of hands slide across her skin, groping here and there and making her jump.

She feels them tear apart her stockings as she takes off her bra and steps out of both the moment they fall to the floor around her.

Then, she kneels. She feels the pair of hands grip at her wrists and pull them behind her back, until the woman looks perfectly submissive for the older woman.

With her arms behind her back, Daniela can only stare and breathe heavily as Donna’s dress is lifted and comes off in a fluid, slow motion. Creamy, pale skin is revealed, a black garter belt and equally black panties, and a matching bra that comes off within seconds as well.

The younger woman’s mouth waters as she watches the panties fall to the floor. Then, suddenly, Donna takes a hold of her jaw and pulls her head forwards. She whimpers, her heartbeat quickening.

“Are you going to serve me, doll?”

Daniela shivers at the voice in her head, and nods fast.

Spoken like a question, it is more of a demand, really. A demand Daniela is all too happy to fulfill.

“Yes, my love!”, she insists.

In an instant, she feels the ghostly fingers wrap tighter around her wrists and shove her forwards. Her hair is gripped by her lover’s hand, just tight enough for her to be held in place. Her nose brushes up against Donna’s clit and her raw scent floods her senses.

Immediately, she gets to work. She moans against the other woman’s skin as she laps at every bit of wetness of Donna’s soaked pussy.

She feels, in return, how soft ghostly fingers slide against her slit and dip in a little. Never enough to push into her, just barely enough to give her a taste of pleasure.

An unspoken promise of a reward.

She moves her lips and tongue eagerly, Donna’s quiet moans fuelling her. The sweet taste of her arousal almost feeds into her efforts and the heat between her legs, as well as the slick wetness gathering there.

“Keep going, suck on my clit, my darling”

Daniela moans at the now familiar voice in her head, as well as the gentle pull of her hair to have her just where Donna wants her.

She wraps her lips around her pussy and folds and slides her tongue against and across her lover’s clit repeatedly, each time growing hungrier and more desperate.

She’s panting and rolling her hips down and against the pair of hands between her legs sliding against her slit and groping her ass and thighs shamelessly.

And Donna? She’s experiencing what can only be described as sweet ecstasy. Her eye is lidded when she glances down at what is hers and hers alone, the beautiful woman squirming and moaning on her knees, flushed face hidden between her thighs, bright pink pussy lips teased as she sucks on Donna’s dusty pink ones.

To some extend, she feels an extra set of thrills from taking the woman like this, from snatching her right underneath her family’s nose. No, Daniela may be born into house Dimitrescu, but she is of house Beneviento, now, Donna will see to it.

Her fingers tighten their grip on the younger woman’s auburn hair as she feels herself be brought closer to her orgasm.

A few more seconds, more hushed moans and groans, gasps and breathless whimpers even, and Daniela feels the woman cum just when her tongue pushes into her.

She is pulled up mere moments later, the hand sliding down and gripping at her neck guiding her to her tiptoes for Donna’s lips to come against her own.

“Good Girl”

Daniela moans at the low voice whispering in her mind. The groping touches only add to her desperation and want.

She is guided backwards, her arms and hands so flush against her back one could think they are tied or still held there by the phantom hands.

Donna smirks at this as she sits down on the soft, red mattress. Naturally, her sweet Daniela follows.

She allows the woman’s hands and phantom hands to guide her, her lips parted and allowing gentle moans and heavy breaths to pass by as she is set on Donna’s smooth, strong thigh.

She leans forwards eagerly, her lips hungrily pushing against soft unpainted ones. Both women moan gently. This close, both feel each other’s skin and smell one another’s scent. Daniela feels utterly consumed by the doll maker’s scent and the pollen around her, luring her closer and closer and creating more wetness between her thighs. Donna, in turn, feels more and more obsessed the more time she spends in such proximity to her doll. She craves her, can never be too close to her.

“Spread your legs. I wish to feel you”, she whispers against the younger woman’s ear. Again, her good girl obeys without hesitation.

She spreads her thighs and hovers just above Donna’s.

“Hha- A-Ah!”, she mewls upon feeling two fingers snake between her pussy lips and push inside. No virgin, certainly, but nonetheless the length of Donna’s fingers surprises the redhead.

She arches her back and grips her lover’s shoulders tightly, her lips parting wider and her moans and gasps increasing in volume when the fingers are thrust in and out of her at their full length.

“My lo-love!”, she cries out. She commands her arms to move and her hands to reach down at the fast pace, yet it’s as if they are glued to her back. She moans and rocks her hips, helpless to the overwhelming pleasure bestowed upon her.

Never has she had a maid this deep in her, this skilled with her fingers. Never have her nails been trimmed enough for her to curl them in herself or push them in properly without squeaking at the pain and damage they caused to her insides.

Donna, though? Yes. Lady Beneviento has no such problems. She easily finds and targets the most sensitive spots inside of her doll, with her G Spot being the one focused on the most.

Poor Daniela is a moaning, rocking, squirming and shivering mess. Her back arched and head thrown back, she can only rock her hips against the hand and thigh offered to her to attempt to regain some control.

“My beautiful doll”

“What a sight for sore eyes you are”

“You feel utterly soft on your insides, my little Daniela”

“At last, I am to claim you”

Daniela shrieks as the fingers of one ghostly hand shove between her lips. She feels her own wetness smear against the inside of her mouth and the back of her throat, then shrieks as another forces her flush against her lover.

Suddenly, the pollen surrounding her begins to burn. Daniela moans and cries at both the pleasure and pain given and forced upon her. She feels, slowly, how the burning pollen digs into the soft skin of her back, a brand made forever in the shape of the Beneviento house sigil.

Her first orgasm comes fast, even before the branding is completed. Tears of pleasure, happiness, pain and overstimulation mix with those caused by her constant gagging on the fingers down her throat, and each reflects in Donna’s dark eye.

The woman watches hungrily as Daniela’s wet pussy swallows a third finger and takes it inside, her body growing weaker and weaker, shivering and trembling on her lap. And yet, she keeps begging for more, endures the pain on her backside with the reminder that it shall mark her as Donna’s.

And such, Daniela comes again, her body trembling and caught by phantom hands and real ones alike.

Her body lays weak against her lover and her back stings and burns even as the pollen have let up. Yet, a large smile is set on her lips.

“I love you”, she coos dreamily. Donna’s smile widens. She nearly lets on about the darkness within her. Of course, her naive little Daniela believes to be head over heels in love. After all; her Mother kept telling her, she falls too fast. And her protective eldest sister, Bela, kept reminding her sister, she’s naive, she’s young, she’s gullible. She keeps falling for the wrong people. And of course, Cassandra, who would always insist Daniela is too clouded by the bubble of false promises and expectations from fantasy books to ever hold a proper relationship.

Now, Donna will ensure all this is only reserved for her.

With a smile on her lips, she kisses Daniela’s soft lips again, engulfing both of them in shadows.

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