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aithorin · 8 months

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Dinner and Dessert - Lady Dimitrescu x Reader - Part 2 (18+)

Synopsis: Hidden within the safety of the kitchens, you’ve been one of the lucky few to escape the notice of Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters while under their employ. Yet when a shortage of staff brings you out of the kitchens, you quickly yet unknowingly catch the attention of Lady Dimitrescu. Things come to a head when you are called to her chambers one night on the order of serving her a private dinner.

NSFW Warning!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47663530/chapters/120139672

A/N: Part 2 of 2. Part 1 is here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Delicious.” She crooned.

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

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

This was absolute torture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her meaning was clear, and if her smirk was anything to go by, she knew you understood. Words stolen from your throat, you could do no more than dumbly nod before spinning around and hightailing it out of there as heat threatened to consume your entire face. Still, as you left her presence, you couldn’t stop the wide smile that emerged and remained for the rest of the night as you lost yourself to the fantasies of future meals with your mistress.

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geekyarmorel · 4 months

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I'm already back again! So here's another request for Lady D now. And it's time to spice things up a bit with some angst! What about reader being a product of experiment conducted by Lady D on the order from MM? The new maid is kind hearted and it doesn't take long for Alcina to take interest in a young woman. Lady D getting attached but still too loyal to MM and bitterly thinking that reader anyway wouldn't even consider thinking of her in a romantic way so she bottles up her feelings instead. Reader surviving the cadou and not becoming a lycan or moroaică but seemingly without gaining any mutation from it. She's still a normal human being(as one can be with some parasite inside their body) or so everyone thinks but then she starts seeing ghosts. Firstly it was some, like, glitches and then it started to slowly progress into seeing fully body shaped silhouettes and then people. Just imagine how many she'd see at the castle Dimitrescu, and considering how those ghosts died, the sight isn't a pretty one. Gruesome looking ghosts. So my point is that the maid goes slowly insane and either somehow killing herself or being killed. The angst part is her being in love with Lady D all this time. I imagine her saying that before she dies or I see Alcina going through the maid's belongings after her death and finding a diary, etc and reading love confession from now dead maid.

P.S. If you're not comfortable writing about reader's death, you could come up with your own ending but make it angsty! Actually I'm more intrested to know what your ending would be! So feel free to change the death part!

P.P.S. This request started as another one for MM but somehow ended up like this... and I didn't even plan it. Oh, well...

Listen i better get a cute prompt after this. I loved it but i also made myself sad. Anyway enjoy!

Empty Soul

Alcina × Reader

She couldn't have predicted that this would have been the outcome. That she'd be here sitting next to this bed, holding a hand that grows cold while a heartbeat gets slower and slower by the minute.

It started when she noticed how her daughters treated you. You were kind to them and they flocked to your warmth like moths to a lantern. She began to seek out your company, curious about the mortal that treated them like humans.

Over the course of months her family connected to you and you had become someone precious in their sight. And as for Alcina, she realized one day as the sound of your laugh made her heart flutter, that she had completely fallen in love with you. For a while she tried to distance herself, she knew there was no way you could ever feel the same way. When she saw how your smile never quite reached your eyes and the hurt they spoke of she couldn't stay away any longer.

When you were alone with her she let you use her name, the way it sounded from your lips truly made her feel spellbound. She fell more in love with you everyday, oh and how her heart ached, knowing that there was no way you could ever love her back. The thought haunted her like the shadows that fell through the castle.

Then disaster struck.

A new sickness spread through the village and into the castle. You fell prey to it and it was beginning to ravage your body. Alcina couldn't take it and approached you as you laid in your bed. She did her best to convince you to take the cadou, to become like her (and if she was a little selfish in wishing that you might fall for her afterwards then she'd accept that). You agreed and she carried you to her lab wasting no time.

It was difficult to watch the painful process that you were going through but when it came to an end and you weren't transformed into any of those disgusting and horrid creatures she smiled widely. At first it looked like you were going to be powerless, just a stronger human able to blend in with the masses. It hurt her heart a little, you'd never want her now when you could still have a human partner who wouldn't be afraid of you.

Then she began to notice your strange behavior, there were times when she observed you doing double takes into what seemed like empty space. This behavior went on for days when asked you would just reply. "I think I'm just jumpy my Lady, I haven't been sleeping well. Its probably just that." And she let it go, accepting your words at face value.

Mother Miranda called the next day, demanding Alcina to leave on a trip and so she did as she was commanded. It was only a week long trip, what could be the harm? Everything would run as smoothly as normal.

How wrong she was.

When she arrived back home her daughters were frantic, the drone from their swarms loud and erratic. They rushed to tell her of you. How you suddenly became afraid of everything seemingly over night, how you would look in horror at empty rooms and empty halls, how you shrieked and screamed, clutching yourself and trying to escape from unseen things.

As they got closer to the room where you had hidden away she could smell your blood in the air, her chest aching in the thought of you being hurt. She bends into the room to find you a top a barrel, knife in your hand as you slowly rocked it side to side carving your thigh into two. There were deranged and wet giggles escaping your lips, truly a sign of hysteria. "Draga?" Alcina tried, kneeling down beside you uncaring if her dress got dirty.

Your eyes snapped to hers and she lost her breath, she'd never seen such dead eyes on any living creature. "Monsters." You say in a sing song like voice, "No hope, monsters, join us soon." You continue in the same manner and Alcina can't help the way her heart is starting to sink. "That's all they say." Another wet and unhinged giggle escapes your lips.

"Who say?" She asks, handing coming try and still the blade in your hand. But you shriek and wail making her take her hand back, you only calmed when you resume your slicing. "Draga, who says those things?"

"The other maids." You answer, "They come from the walls, crawling out of the basement, nearly every room they come from. Crawling, begging, reaching for me." Your other hand lifted to your arm and raked your nails down it to try and get the phantom touch away. "I see them. How they died. Entrails dragging behind, sick and pale drained to empty husks. Parts sliced off clean, others ripped messily apart."

Alcina's stomach began to twist as she realizes what you mean. "They call you monsters. They say I'll join them soon. No hope. No hope. Monsters." You giggle again as tears begin to pour from your eyes.

"I can't stop seeing them!" You say as you body shakes with sobs. "They're everywhere! They won't let me sleep! They won't shut up!"

"I'm so sorry draga mea." She says reaching out to wipe away your tears, "I'm so sorry."

"I don't want this power!"

Alcina feels her heart sinking lower with every second that passed. "I'm sorry draga-"

"I only wanted to be like you! Maybe then you'd love me like I love you!" All the breath in her body left as you said those words. You loved her?! You loved her! She lifted her hands to cup your cheeks, brushing her thumbs across them to wipe away your tears. She goes to speak again when you cry out, "I don't want this gift any more! Take it back!" You beg her, tears spilling down faster.

"Draga, I'm sorry but I can't take it back." Alcina feels tears threatening to fall from her eyes. At her words you cry out and before she has a chance to react you dig the blade into the side of your chest and twist it deep. A cry of her own flies from her lips, "No! No no no no!" Quickly she removes the knife, scooping you up in her arms as she flees toward her chamber. She calls for supplies and has you patched up to the best of her ability.

And now she's sitting by your side, hand clutching yours as she begging for you to pull through. "Please draga mea, please. Don't leave me." Tears slip down her cheeks as she places a tender kiss on your hand. "I love you, I've loved you for so long. I never thought you'd want me. Please know that I know, I can't let you go. I could bare the thought of you passing before the Cadou, that's why I had to convince you to take it."

She bites into her arm deeply welling blood to pour from it. Lifting your head she puts the pouring wound to your lips, hoping she can get enough to slip down your throat and begin to heal you. "Please draga mea. Please don't leave me." But only a growing weaker heartbeat answers her words and she prays, for the first time in perhaps a century, that she's not too late.

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