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You blush as his eyes rake over your backside, your skin heated under the rare springtime sunlight. You don’t need to see him to know he’s there, just behind you, eyes boring into you from afar. It’s a sensation, a feeling. Ghostly hands running over your sides and up your thighs his gaze makes your mind race to wicked thoughts. He sends heat pooling between your legs, pooling low in your belly when you turn and see his predatory stare, the clever smirk of secret promises and dark temptation. Your blush colors your cheeks even deeper as you turn from him, resuming your business pulling down the dry linens.
His gaze ends, the feeling fades, and an ache inside of you lingering for something you can’t name.
It has been several months since you started work as a maid in the Phantomhive manor. It was a job that payed well, and as you’re the 3rd daughter of your family with few prospects, it was by far, a very decent job that would suit your class and standing. The Lord of the Manor, Master Ciel, was young, but while he might have been young, he was sharp and pointed. He demanded excellence and frankly, you welcomed the challenge. It was a pleasure to work under someone who did not need to try and intimidate you or would degrade you with ill fitting work gowns. Master Ciel was a good natured lad, and while demanding, he always praised your quality of work and attention to detail.
His butler, Mister Michaelis however, was an entirely different sort.
He was demanding but not harsh... per say. He had high standards and expectations, and yet, he forgave the many faults of various other staff. You on the other hand he seemed to take exceptional perverse delight in giving you daunting, intimidating and nigh impossible tasks. You often completed them, but each time with but a hair’s breath from the day’s end. He rarely complimented your work ethic or ability to learn new tasks and your skills, but rather would set you up with a seemingly malicious intent to see you fail. He had made it some twisted mission of his to see you fail Master Ciel, yet you had made it your mission to prove the cruel Michaelis that you would not be cowed by a man’s sadistic desire to see you crushed under stress or conflict.
Yet he always looked at you like he wanted to have his wicked way with you when you and he were alone. Oh, he certainly never acted or hinted openly to such a thing, but his eyes, so unnatural in their vermillion hue bore into your very soul and you could swear the devil himself whispered to you that it would be better, simpler, to yield to the man. You knew him to be single, to be Master Ciel’s most trusted, that he was the epitome of a perfect butler, ‘one hell of a butler’ as he oft described himself, yet for all his good looks, his status, his skill, you never could shake the feeling he was not to be trusted, not to be allowed to see you weak or unable to do what was demanded. He stalked the grounds like panther, red eyes aglow with predatory light when he’d check up upon you and your work, rarely offering comment, and when he did, it was with a devil’s smirk and dark look in those red eyes that made wicked thoughts rise like unwanted truths to how you found him alluring, all his cruelty and aloof dismissal of you aside.
Today was no different. He had taken his time to see you, remind you he was watching, reminding you he would check, look for flaws, for faults, and he’d make you squirm under his heated gaze while he did it.
The day’s tasks done, you were ready to retire to your room, but as if to mock you, the smooth voice of the devil himself called to you, stopping you in your tracks.
“(y/n).” Sebastian’s voice was a torment on it’s own. No man so handsome and cruel should have a voice so rich and alluring. “My Lord wanted to speak with you about a few matters will you please follow me?” You smiled at Mey-Rin, knowing the other woman would be fine dressing down for the evening, even with her poor eyesight.
“Of course Mister Michaelis.” He frowned at the use of his name. He preferred all staff call him by his first name, but you considered yourself a professional, and would not give him any excuse to berate your lack of formality.
The walk to the study was a brisk one, the heels of his shoes and your own clicking on the hardwood. Though, faint, the candlelight flicked and illuminated the space, the manor Lord seating at his desk, writing over the lord only knew what.
“Ah, Miss (y/n). I wanted to talk to you about your recent work.” You stand rigid. Your mind mulling over everything these last few weeks. Nervously, your eyes flicker to Sebastian, who’s smirk is reminiscent of the cat that caught the canary. Ciel doesn’t notice however, and continues on.
“I hired you on a recommendation from a friend who told me you’d be satisfactory to my standards. Still, you had no real references, no experience. I asked that Sebastian test you, see if you would be a suitable, and perhaps a more permanent fixture here, and from his assessment, you’ve done quite well.” You blink. Sebastian has said you’d done well? Was he talking of the same man that got his jollies from making your work near torment?
“I always found it interesting that you are so driven and thorough. Your work ethic shows. Greatly. I want to make you an offer. While your current contract is just until the summer, I’d like to extend it until the new year, upon which if your work remains at this caliber, I have the full intention to keep you on as a permanent member of my household.” You’re dumbfounded. You’re being offered a permanent job. A well paying one.
“But you see we have a bit of a problem.” Your heart is in your throat, a stone in your gut.
“A problem Sir?”
“Yes. You see, While I have you and Mey-Rin, the few occasional staff we hire are just that, occasional. They need guidance and often that job has fallen to Sebastian. And while he can and does train them, he is busy and cannot be everywhere at once. Just so, I’d like to offer you the position of Head Maid from now until the new year and your new, permanent, contract.” You gape. It is unladylike, but you do. Head maid is a role a woman gets only after years of experience, usually well when she is past her birthing years. She’s in charge of most staff and second only to-
You gaze drifts over to Sebastian, who looks utterly smug and pleased with the turn of events.
“It comes with a raise of course. A better room. You’d be working closely with Sebastian for when we have guests and host parties. I have confidence that with a little training, you’d fit quite well.” Lord Ciel is smiling and yet you get the feeling he’s hiding something.
Yet the job offer is too good to pass on. It doesn’t take long, he had the contract already written for your new position to the new year, and Sebastian has the entire day tomorrow to get you familiar with your new role. You sign the papers quickly, hardly noticing the way Lord and Butler smile like they’ve gotten exactly what they wanted.
You go to bed grinning, barely able to fathom your luck. You plan to write to your family after tomorrow, tell Mey-Rin, get perhaps something to spoil yourself with to celebrate. Your hard work has paid off- and you make a note to yourself to thank Mister Michaelis. Perhaps you had been wrong- he’d not been intending to see you fail, but rather testing you. Master Ciel had given you the offer off of his recommendations after all. Tomorrow, you tell yourself, you will thank the red eyed man and happily begin your learning under his tutelage.
Tomorrow come and you’re woken an hour early by none other than Mister Michaelis himself, smiling with arms full of a new, clean uniform.
“We do not have a proper uniform for your position yet, so this will be your’s in the meantime. Dress and meet me in the foyer to begin.”
“So late Mister Michaelis?” You tease. “No doubt I should have been up long ago.” His eyes twinkle a bit at your bold mirth.
“Even I know the value of a woman’s rest. Today is an exception, but in the future, you will be waking alongside me.” His words are innocent enough, but those eyes speak of something dark and seductive, and you blush at the way you feel them sink into your skin, past your robe and nightdress. You bow your head to hide the redness in your cheeks and tell him you’ll be down shortly. The man just smiles and leaves you, a strange sensation between your thighs as he goes.
The new uniform is rather unfortunate. It’s clearly made to signify your different status than Mey-Rin, with less frill and a more refined cut. But… It’s small. Exceptionally so. Your bust is pushed upwards and together, the skirts riding a bit too high to be modest. It’s not intentional, the cut of the cloth is clear, but it was made for a woman not so tall, not so… developed. It’s bordering indecent, but it is the uniform. In an attempt to maintain a bit of modesty, you cover your shoulders and chest with a shawl, though, it doesn’t do much. With a sigh, you accept that it is only temporary.
Unfortunately, as Mister Michaelis explains, you won’t be having a new uniform for a few days when you’ll be going into the city with him to learn of the various merchants and craftsmen that supply the manor. The day moves swiftly, you going so far as to take small notes in a journal that you’re given courtesy of Mister Michaelis himself. ‘So one lesson shall be all that is needed.’
He’s rather well natured about your questions, offering small insights here and there but you catch him more than once drifting his gaze over you, appraisingly. You only feel slightly embarrassed when he enquires about your shawl, and when he sees why, you blush like the maiden you are, apologizing for such an indecent state. You miss his gaze of hunger, but not the husky note in his voice.
“I’m certain it will be fine for the next few days. Until then- we’ll just have to suffer your small indignities.” He chuckles. “Or would it be more accurate to call them large indignities?” You squeak out an admonishment at his lewd and crass joke, face in full bloom. Still, he is jesting with you and it lessens your worry that he means you ill.
Strangely enough, that night when you undress, you feel like you are being watched, the heat of a lusting stare on you. You redress quickly for the night dismissing your fears and paranoia. You dream of your family, but feel when you wake that perhaps, you ought to consider less of their needs and more of your own.
Days pass quickly, and you fall into your role as if you were made for it. Yet the more time you spend in Mister Michaelis’s presence, the more you find yourself blushing, catching his eyes on you more than just once. He’s never really made a move upon you, has been decently respectful, and has aided you with any inquiry you’ve had. Overall, he’s more pleasant to be around. You just cannot place it however. He’s different somehow. His red eyes linger on you a little longer, he stands a bit closer. You dare not think he finds you attractive or worthy of his attentions. He’s too stern, too work focused to pay mind to a woman like you.
The thought keeps coming up lately in your mind. 3rd Daughter. No dowry, no name, no real prospects or friends outside of a few women from your childhood- all wed with suckling babes at their breasts. You envy them somewhat. They have mad families of their own, and here you are, no suitor, a good job and yet so alone. You wish you find… someone? It’s such a sorry thing to feel, your self pity. Women would kill for your position and pay. Yet you feel a sense of ennui. You want something. Something...more.
Mister Michaelis’s eyes make your blush, wondering what more might mean from a man.
Tomorrow you’ll be going to the market, picking up your new, fitting uniform and making your first orders for the estate with Mister Michaelis’s help. Right now however, you are bent over a desk, trying to fish out a cleaning cloth that has slipped behind the too heavy wooden frame. You don’t notice him, you never do. Yet suddenly, he is there, pressed to you from behind indecently, the smell of jasmine alerting you to who it is. A gloved hand holds your hips still as you jump, yelling his name in alarm. Yet the other hand presses the small of your back, pinning you flush to the wood.
You realize the desire you’ve had and what ‘more’ you wanted.
He grinds himself into the cleft of your ass, barely covered by the too short skirt, firm flesh rubbing against parts of you through the fabric making you tremble in a contradiction of thoughts. Alarm- he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s indecent, wrong. Fear- he is a man, has he held back only to take advantage now? Desire-
Sebastian is handsome by far, his eyes burn your soul and his voice drips with lust as he says your name into the otherwise empty room.
“(y/n)” You mewl, shaking under his hands, uncertain what to do, what will happen.
“Don’t be late tomorrow little kitten.” His hands squeeze your hips. “And refrain from wearing those white underthings, you’re much more alluring in black.” You gasp as you feel the hand on your back slip down, squeezing your ass and then-
It’s like a fog is lifted. You’re alone in the room, cloth in hand, Mister Michaelis nowhere in sight.
That night you whimper in your bed, fingers between you legs, rubbing your clit for the first time in a desperate need for a pleasure you’ve never known you wanted.
You find no relief or satisfaction.
You wake, needy and wet, slipping on your black underthings as your dream, (vision, hallucination?) instructed. It cannot harm you to do so. If imagined, no one will know. If real- You tremble, wondering what lies in store for you.
When you arrive at the gate to meet Mister Michaelis you can feel something has changed. Something is.. different. His smile is guarded and he escorts you into the carriage like you are a lady, not a fellow servant. It unsettles you. Worse, is his close proximity in said carriage in your ride into town, his knees touching your own and his gaze wandering over you incrementally.
“Tell me, (y/n).” He begins to fill the carriage with his voice and you internally tremble at the sultry tone. “Are you excited for your new uniforms? I’ve been assured that they’ll fit to your measurements and I’m quite interested to see how they look.” You do your best to smile, nodding.
“I am. It will be welcome after these last days in this one. It’s… small.” You manage, shifting again as his eyes move to your bust.
“Just a touch.” He reaches over and you still, his fingers caressing hair from your face.
“Did you remember to grab the list of supplies we’re to order?” He keeps the topic innocent yet you feel indecent oddly enough. You just can’t explain why.
“Of course Mister Michaelis, I have it in my pocket.” He smirks and leans back, hands folded in his lap and your eyes make the mistake to drift down.
His arousal pushes prominently to the front of his trousers and you gape at the sight of such indecency. The second you realize you’ve been staring your eyes jump to his, alight with amusement and lust.
Blood rushes to your face as you fight down embarrassment.
“Are you well (y/n)?” He leans over, hand cupping your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes. “You look a bit flustered. I haven’t made you uncomfortable have I?” You stammer out a no and turn to the window, trying to ignore him.
Your eyes close and then-
He moans. Loud, deep, his moan fills the carriage and you look at him. Sebastian is lounging against the seat, legs spread wide with the buttons on his trousers undone and pale, thick cock standing at attention. You are frozen, transfixed on the sight as Sebastian strokes himself, moaning as wetness beads at the tip. The scent of him fills the air, jasmine and musk, you see his head roll, catching your gaze with his own.
It's wanting. You whimper as he strokes faster, eyes locked, moaning and grunting with each pass of his hand. Then, like an alarm, he says your name, short jets of sticky white cum darting out, landing on you and the carriage floor.
Sebastian grins, gathering a few drops from his cock on his fingers before lifting them to your lips.
“Taste me kitten.” His words are spoken like a suggestion, but his gaze commands and you open your mouth-
He tastes like sin.
You close your eyes to savor the taste of him on your tongue when the carriage comes to a halt. Fear spikes as you realize you’ll be caught in such an indecent manner yet when your eyes fly open he isn’t there. In fact, as the lock clicks and the door opens it’s him standing on the other side.
“Did you enjoy the trip?” He asks, red eyes boring into your flushed face. You look confused at him and then the empty carriage. You swore he entered with you, that his spend was on you, in your mouth. That he’d ridden right across from you. Lips parted you can’t bare to ask, not with his eyes staring, as if knowing your debauched fantasy just moments prior.
“It was enjoyable.” You managed to stammer out a reply, and it leave him grinning.
There is no signs that it was anything but a fantasy.
The rest of the day passes without incident, Mister Michaelis showing you the suppliers and various trades men the estate works with. The most odd is that for some reason, you were taken to see an Undertaker, who apparently, acts often as liaison for Lord Phantomhive’s affairs. You don’t pry and the grey haired man smiles at you and laughs when you mention how lively he is for someone who works with the dead more than the living.
Mister Michaelis removed you quickly from that place, and you couldn’t thank him enough. It was not his choice to expose you but, there were affairs to the estate you’d be required to do that were odd on occasion so it was better to be ready than not.
It was only when the day had ended, that you had undressed and were sponging down to clean yourself that once more, your mind turned to sin. It turned to red eyes in your doorway, the lean form of Sebastian imposing in the low lamplight.
Five strides and he was on you, the door shut behind him, your voice stolen as he pulled you into a kiss. Naked, skin damp with warm water you gasp as his hands roam your skin, playing on the flesh of your hips and his legs nudging apart your own.
The lamp blown out, you feel yourself fall into your bed, gasping his name in darkness as he touches you like a man does to a woman, as a lover might do. Your naked body is cold in the night air, nipples pebbling and begging for warmth, for attention. Sebastian gives it, his mouth latching onto a dusky nub and suckling, kneading the other with his warm hand. You can’t help the soft sighs and moans that escape you, and when he lets go with a light pop, the red in his eyes glow in the darkness, unearthly, unreal.
“Keep quiet pet, wouldn’t want to wake anyone now would we?” His voice is rich wine, sweet and intoxicating, lulling you to his will and whims. You melt at his touch, arching your back in silence as he sucks your other breast, red swollen marks left in his wake, your nipples peaked and sensitive.
“Now, shall we play a game by dear?” He lifts you and you gasp at the strength rippling through him in the dark. You cannot see anything but his eyes, glittering bright in the inky blackness that engulfs you both.
“You’ve been a good little kitten as of late, so I think a reward is due. But only if you can win my game.” His fingers ghost over your body, slowly drifting down until they reach the apex of your thighs lazily circling your mons.
“It’s simple, I play with my favorite kitty, and you keep from mewling. If you win-“ His mouth is by your ear, lips brushing the outer flesh.
“-I’ll give you something for your pretty kitty.” His fingers dip into your folds, slick with need and desire. You bit your lip to stop the cry of surprise and pleasure. No man has ever touched you like this. No married woman you had ever known had hinted that a man could do this- could give such euphoria with nothing but his hands and lips. Sebastian’s fingers glide up and down your dripping folds, playing with them, teasing the places you crave him most.
As if on instinct you spread your legs for him, offering to him anything he might want from your maidenly virtue. Yet all he does is chuckle, fingers swirling, gathering slick and massaging your labia and teasing your clit with light glances of a touch.
Your mouth opens in a soundless plea for more, back arching off your sheets as you writhe under his touch. He’s a demon, wicked and cruel to do this to you. When his fingers filling slip into you, you can’t help that gasp and sigh of pleasure. One digit and you feel good, his slow pressing to your walls offering something you never have felt before. When the second fingers slips in, you bite your lip hard, feeling him stretch you, widen your hole as if to ready you for something more.
Is this what married men and women do? Is this what happens before a maiden becomes a woman? You fist the sheets and muffle a scream as the third finger enters your virgin cunt, thrusting slowly in and out. He’s merciless, watching you with his glowing red eyes in the dark as he makes you thrust onto his fingers, thumb brushing you clit. You feel tears prick at your eyes when you feel something low coil in your belly, at your spine. Hot, it rises and robs you your control as you gasp his name into the darkness, hips jerking, legs shaking. Your orgasm is wet, cunt dripping and soaking his hand with evidence of your sin.
Sebastian grins in the dark, and you can feel it in your bones. His satisfaction, his pleasure, his excitement.
“Such a good kitten, playing so well with me. You did well- now, let’s see about that reward.” You feel something inside you, cool and soothing. Yet at the same time, it make you gasp in pleasure. You can’t feel anything inside you, but the effect is bliss. Euphoria.
Orgasmic.
“Say my name thrice my sweet kitten.” His lips kiss you neck, your jaw. “And I will make a true deal with you.” His body is hot, and you crave his skin on your own, the pressure of his body over you, the feeling of him, all of him, inside you, marking you with his essence, making you his.
“But in return, you’ll be my little kitten forever.”
You feel his kiss, and you moan his name into his mouth closing your eyes. When you open them, the lamp wick is almost burnt out, and you see no signs of Sebastian. The water is still warm in the basin and yet evidence of your release coats your inner thighs.
You clean it away, blushing and you dress and slip behind covers. You have reached a point of sinful delusions of pleasure with a man, had touched yourself. Yet, you cannot find yourself thinking that a priest might be able to help you. All you can think of is Sebastian’s words. His name thrice, and he will give you what you want, but only if you give him yourself.
A devil’s bargain.
It sounds wonderful.
The next day, you can’t look him in the face. Mister Michaelis’s smile knowing, as if he had been there in your room, coaxing you to pleasures you had no name for. You were a decent lady, a maiden and would remain so until you found a husband. That is what you told yourself. But the way he looks at you, wanting, makes you hesitate. Yet never does he hint, never does he come close. All you get are faint touches as you pass in the hall, a brush of gloved fingers over you to hand you something. Each touch makes a fire light in your belly, making you tremble and quake with a need for more. You catch his eyes on you on occasion, hungry, burning, and the grin he gives is that of a predator.
Yet you want to be consumed, to know if that mouth will make you come undone, if he wants you as you want him. Is this love? You fear it is sin, that a demon of lust has taken hold of you, and makes you yearn for that which is forbidden. You need a preist- but what shame that might bring. To be labeled a lusting harlot tempted by pleasures of the flesh, to lust after your betters. You fear what the holy men might say, what they might tell you, what cure there might be. You have heard of women driven to depravity and sent to asylums. Surely, you are not so. You pray you are not, yet by the day’s end you sex is wet with desire, and his vice bidding you good night haunts you as you write under the sheets in the dark.
You swear you can feel his eyes on you, and you secretly hope they are.
Days go by and worse becomes your want for Mister Michaelis. You worry that your work is slipping, you have missed a few meals, lost in your sinful thoughts and working at nothing. Yet if so, no one has said anything. Perhaps the worst part is how close Mister Michaelis lingers, how he insists you go with him on errands. Each time in the carriage, you are subjected to your own mind, visions of him in the carriage with you, in various state of undress, of him pleasuring you with his lips and fingers. Of him pleasuring himself, releasing his seed upon your face, your breasts, your thighs. You moan his name and when he opens the door you wonder if he hears your sounds, your needy gasps and moans. He says nothing, gentleman he is.
Yet, no matter how perverse your mind has become, it has not given you a vision or dream of him claiming you, making you a woman in his embrace. You wonder what sort of madness plagues you, to conjour up such sin but offer not the final act of carnal delight and debauchery. You begin to wonder as the visions grow in frequency and tangibility, how long you can last. Your sanity is clearly slipping. You cannot bare this pain, this horror of knowing that lust over a man who has given you a place, a future, could be leading to your very demise.
It has been three months since your promotion and like bowstring you are pulled taught by your mind’s darkness, by your lust for sin.
His words haunt you echo in your skull. To call for him thrice. He must be a demon, no, a demon with his face torments you, even if no crosses, no holy water, no blessings has driven this vile need away. You are weak, just a mortal woman who is lost. Innocent you wish to scream to the sky. I am innocent of sin. Yet looking into the darkness of your room, the light of the moon sending it into an unearthy glow you cannot stave off madness forever. His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer for salvation.
“Sebastian.” The room cools, gooseflesh prickles your skin.
“Sebastian.” You feel the darkness around you, growing swelling. The moon casts a deep shadow and you close your eyes, unable to face it’s light.
“Sebastian.” You feel him, he is there, yet in the dark you cannot see him, hear him, feel him. You need him and so you surrender.
You sin.
“I want to be yours.”
Your door opens and you gasp, warm candlelight filling your bedroom as he stands in the doorway, expression benign.
“My dearest kitten.” He purrs, eyes aglow with heat and dark promise. “It would be my pleasure.” As the door shuts you wonder if this is real, and as you watch him peel away his gloves, a violet intricate marking on his hand, you know it must be.
In your desperation to find freedom from your madness you read of demons, of bindings and seals. His is such a thing and you realize you truly have fallen. You are the lost lamb, and you have offered yourself as sacrifice.
“I will give you an eternity of pleasure, satisfaction, bliss and release.” His hands cup your face as he looms over you, imposing and threatening in his raw demonic power. “But you will be mine. Eternity as mine, to do with as I please, to have as I desire, to shape, to mold, to bed, to breed.” His breath ghosts over your lips.
“Make the pact with me, and seal our souls together by the bonds of fate.”
His kiss is passion and destruction. You feel it burn your soul in it’s all consuming hunger, your body arching as you cry out, an orgasm coming from nothing but his possession of you. The mark glows over your womb, you see it’s mirror on his chest.
His nude form hovers above your own, clothes lost in the abyss of the dark, the feeling of laying in a bed of feathers surrounds you. Reaching up, you cup his face, puling him back down for another kiss. One after another, you moan his name as he makes love to your mouth with his own, sending you into bliss with each renewed contact.
Soon, his lips are not enough, and he laughs as you mewl from the loss of them. His hands cup your breasts, stroking dusky nipples and pinching them to stiffness. Your body seizes in desire, pulling him down and guiding his lips to a nub, watching in fascination as he draws it into his mouth, suckling like a babe, yet only offering you pleasure. Flicks of warm wet tongue, harsh sucks and light bites of his teeth make you keen, hands running through his hair and down his shoulder, silently encouraging his attentions. When you feel the peak become tender from his attention he sucks, releasing it with a wet pop before repeating his actions to the un-toyed with tit. When he is done, red marks decorate your top, some so high that you will not be able to hide them should anyone see you in less than your full dress.
Perhaps it pleases him to see you marked so, because the sound he makes is primal, carnal, and it sends a spike of want right to your core.
Slowly, he sinks further down, fingers running down your sides, teasing in his touch. Yet his face stops at the apex of your thighs. You do not think he will do anything but gaze upon you, and your legs part wide, wanting him to see your wet sex, to see you, needy for him, ready for him. Never did you think a man would kiss you there, licking your slit and savoring the taste of you. Women of the night place their mouths upon men, but never had you heard of a man placing his mouth upon a woman like such as Sebastian does to you now.
He kisses your clit, sucking gentle on it to bring forth more of your arousal, to draw more of your virgin juices to his hungry mouth. And hungry he is, he drinks his fill like a man starved, desperate to devour you and all you might offer him. Your orgasm is fast and hard, giving your lover what he craves, his name a wild chant as your shake whilst he moans into your body, buried between your thighs and having what he has lusted for after so long.
You are the lost lamb, the virgin sacrifice upon his altar of sin. You are his to debauch, to draw into the dark, to savor, to crave, to satisfy, to consume.
You scream for him as his finger slides into you crooking, rubbing a place you cannot reach on your own. The sight of you is one of a woman, writhing in ecstasy, hips rotating thrusting onto his fingers like you know what you do. Yet there is an innocence in you still, a shy uncertainty as you look down to meet his gaze, biting your lip and shaking as you ride his hand to your completion. Sebastian will have you, all of you, before dawn, and he will brand himself on you, body and soul.
As his fingers stretch your walls, you tremble, mind screaming to stop, that this is heresy, damnation, the worst sin. You will be shamed, defiled, a whore for giving yourself to a man before your wedding night. Yet you cry out as a third finger enters you, pushing the limits of your passage and pleasure. You have fallen already, there is no salvation for you anymore. His brand glows in the dark, it marks all who’d gaze upon you for what you are.
Devil lover, witch, heretic, sinner, a lost soul.
As your body releases more fluid to ready yourself for what is to come, Sebastian takes him time toying with your feminine folds, coating them in your juices, inhaling deep the musk of your desire. How long has he waited for this moment? To drag you down with him? You soul will be his dessert after his meal, and it is one he will drag out for as long as he can. Eternity is eternity, and he knows in time, you will surrender everything to him. For now, as he climbs up your shaking body, slick with sweat and hot with lust, he contents himself with your offer of virginity, your virtue, your maidenly ways.
He will be your death, and your second life.
As you look into his eyes you moan for him, reaching up and tangling fingers in dark hair.
“Please.’ You beg him, feeling his cock, firm and hot against your thigh. “Please- I need- I-“ He grins, shifting until you feel him there, blunt cockhead pushing at your entrance.
“My sweet kitten.” He kisses you as he sinks into your body, ready for him, welcoming his cock like you were made for this, for him and his embrace.
How good it feels, to know a man so deeply. To be filled with him, completed by him. Sebastian sinks all the way into you, until the touch of his pelvis rubs your own and steals your breath. You are a maiden no more, your virgin virtue lost to the man who is above you, smiling and satisfied. You gasp as he pulls back and thrusts forward, renewing the sensation of him. You mewl for him again, and he chuckles at the sound. Over and over, he pulls back and sinks into you, sending you closer to an edge you knew have known before. His hands roam your body, his lips suck at your skin. You are moved, shifted to let him in deeper, to mark you anew. You rock in time with his trusts, eyelids fluttering as he manages to make your ride the edge of oblivion.
Over and over Sebastian says your name, whispering the fate you have chosen. His for all time. Your soul his plaything, your body his toy. Death will not free you, no spell, chant, or charm, keep him from you. No God can save you now, this is your fate. To be his. To have him.
There will be pleasure, and pain; Torment and ecstasy. Submission and bliss. Torture and euphoria.
He will mark it into your very being, so that it will be all you know, all you crave. You are his now, and he will not surrender you.
You hold him as he lifts you up, letting gravity have you sink down upon his cock. Your body pulses, milking him, squeezing rhythmically in promise of primal desire. Hands around his head you look into burning red eyes as you bounce up and down his length, whimpering as you feel yourself at the absolute brink of madness. He pulls you close and with a grin, your name leaves his lips.
His prayer.
You answer- your orgasm wild and unending as you scream for him, head thrown back as you ride it, him, reckless and needy. Your body begs him for his seed, and as he holds your hips down, he closes his eyes and lets go, filling you with burning demonic essence. It marks you, his symbol sinking into your skin, your womb.
So lovely, so fertile and young, a virgin no more- a demon’s kept woman.
He growls, pushing you down, thrusting madly into your womanhood, pushing his seed deep, spraying your walls down with thick, sticky ropes of demonic cum. He fucks you- an animal in heat he is determined to coats your insides with himself, to ensure that no other will be able to have you and not know he had you first, that it is his cock that you rode, his cock that filled you, that planted the seeds of sin in your greedy little womb.
As Sebastian’s lust flutters and diminishes, he smiles down at your body, covered in evidence of your acts. You are red from his marks, from the exhaustion of sex, from the shame and humiliation of giving into temptation.
“My kitten.” He whispers, and you feel something snake around your throat.
“Rest- tomorrow, we have much work to do.” A hand hovers over your womb and he smiles.
“How does it feel little one-“ his kiss is deep and you sigh, knowing you have already surrendered, the shame you feel is just how quickly. How much you know you could have stopped had you only tried harder to resist, to fight this craving for him.
“How does it feel to sin, my virtuous pet?”
You touch his face and kiss his lips. “Like heaven.”
He laughs, embracing you again as you drift off to sleep peacefully.
When you wake the next morning, and see his mark on your skin, wetness forms between your thighs and he wakes, grinning and kissing your neck.
“Sebastian.”
His eyes burn red, and you surrender yourself again to the embrace of darkness.