The Manor of London (Penitency & Lala)

[Lala]

Beneath the busy streets of modern Chelsea, another world unfolded in the darkness. It had existed there, nearly unchanged, since the Victorian times that many residents still reminisced about fondly. Those above went about their mundane days without realizing what lurked below unless invited in by one of the shadows. And in that case, they were rarely ever allowed to leave.

Within this microcosm of darkness, one could find any number of mystical and contraband things in the sprawling market that lined the underground branch of the Thames. Creatures from the Abyss slavered in their padlocked cages and grabbed for passersby. Warlocks hocked necklaces with enchanted gems one could slip around the throat of their beloved to enhance carnal pleasures. There were exotic bloodtreats from the homeland for vampiric denizens (guaranteed garlic-free), vast arrays of sweet from the Faelands...and meat. Lots of meat for the various predators who prowled the understreets, glowering in the light from flickering gaslamps that lined the way.

Everyone looked human in public, of course, as was the rule. There was always the possibility that an unthralled human could find the hidden entrance in Sloane Square and slip down here undetected. Not a great possibility, given the lycan security team that could sniff them out at first breach, but no one wished to take any chances when they had managed to remain so hidden throughout the ages.

There were thralls around, though not many. The vampires and demons tended to be selfish about their acquisitions, hiding them away in private abodes or even refusing to bring their pet humans down at all. But beyond the bustling understreets and scattered residences, entry into the most exclusive locations were generally mythic-only.

One such location took it a step further. Only the crème de la crème of the mythic society received invitations to The Manor of London, and credentials were thoroughly checked at the door unless one was a regular. It was tucked back at the end of the long walkway past the Thames branch, with no signage out front. But everyone knew that big red door banded with iron. And everyone knew what an invitee could expect.

The club was packed as usual on a Friday night. Mythics tended to have jobs too, and took the opportunity of the weekend to relax. The main room of The Manor was long, with a low, curved ceiling almost like the inner hull of a great ship. Globe lights with flickering candles dangled from hefty iron girders above, dimly illuminating the beautiful flurry of faces and costumes within. Great tendrils of opium and cigar smoke drifted through the club like fragrant tongues, licking here and there.

On one side, chaises and couches of decadent red velvet were arranged in small clusters. A few alcoves had matching curtains that could be drawn to allow for more privacy if desired, and some of the seats had elegant cushions with gold trim on the floor next to them. Some areas even had a little elevated bit of flooring upon which padded crosses and flogging stations resided. A grand bar stretched floor to ceiling on the other side, all burnished dark wood with every imaginable selection of spirits -- human or mythic. The bartender, drying a glass, raised his eyes to watch as Lily Rose sauntered past with a stride like silk in motion.

She’d only been employed at The Manor for a little over a week, but very quickly had become one of the favorites. She was a fae of the Spring Court, and brought the heady scent of spring gardens with her wherever she roamed. Of average height, she nonetheless made up for being less willowy than most of her kin with curves only accentuated by the corset she donned tonight. Milky white breasts surged above the tightly-laced garment of red brocade, looking a moment away from spilling their secrets. Supple, jiggling globes that looked more than enough to fill big, strong hands.

Long, thick lashes swept coyly shut as she passed the bartender. He’d get a fantastic view of her backside. Though her corset had voluminous swaths of fabric cascading from the sides like a silken waterfall, her round cheeks would clap up and down with each graceful step, covered only by the thin strip of fabric of sequined panties. And legs, pale and flawless as porcelain, looked strong and limber, lengthened by the high stilettos tapping out her approach on the wood floors.

A hand beckoned, a simple gesture that she followed at once. Lily knelt on one of the velour cushions on the floor near the man clad in an expensive tuxedo and tophat, her legs slightly apart, her hands resting atop her knees. Though she hadn’t been here long, she could tell he was not one of the regulars by the way he seemed a bit unsure of his actions. He braced a hand under her chin and tilted her head up to peer at her. Large, expressive eyes like clear blue pools blinked back at him. His hand traced into the thick tumble of white-blond hair that cascaded down her back and slowly pulled it aside to reveal the elegant sweep of a pointed ear.

He smiled down at her and ribbed the fellow next to him. “Told you. Told you there was no way she was anything but fae,” he said with a laugh. “How’d they bag you?”

“If you know my kind, you know how much we love to play. I came to play,” she answered evenly, voice rolling with that sweet sound of spring.

“Oh, and have you?”

“Of course.” Her plush lips curved into a sinful smile. She hadn’t really. Not much at least. The new girls generally weren’t expected to put on shows or accompany customers into the back rooms unless they really wanted to, and she honestly hadn’t really found a hand strong enough to bend under. Not yet.

They descended into polite conversation for a time. He slowly stroked her silky hair, sometimes letting his hand wander down her neck and, after a time, even curling around to cup the lush bubble of her rear. She smiled pleasantly and let him play as he might, though she was starting to count down the time before her shift was over. Maybe tonight something actually exciting would happen and someone would actually entice her exquisite fae appetites. Until then, she’d be here on her knees, drawing the hopeful gaze of the rich and successful mystics who filled the room.

 

[Penitency]

Torrential rain poured from the Heavens above and battered London's architecture of brick, cement, and stone in what could be described as a feverish assault. Brooding clouds had long congregated together to plod out the proud moon and tune Chelsea to a color palate of gray and ash. Umbrellas dotted the walkways, sidewalks, and alleys. Others decided it best to suit up in a nylon hoodie and briskly take to the puddles or streams of water like a soldier to the front lines. Remnants found shelter beneath canvases that jutted from the front of stores or hotels. Thunder loudly clapped before rolling in the distance like a fading gunshot. Occasionally, the flash of lightning brightened up the glow of bending street lamps doing their damnest to guide the crowds of pedestrians undeterred by the weather.

In an attempt to fight the incoming flood, shop keepers grabbed brooms and pushed it back at those kicking droplets in. Cars could be heard in what could only be described as white noise; their tires expelling streaming water from the slick streets and often splashed tourists in what looked like tides as big as ocean waves. Despite it all, everyone daring to brave the rain were still dressed for business, catching their red buses in a timely manner, or entering the pub for a quick pint.

The elegant wood bottoms of black oxford dress shoes tapped against the uneven slabs of concrete following the claustrophobic city streets. Powerful legs moved in a smooth and self-assured gait that waited for no one, or nothing. Byron Black, the proprietor of The Manor, had recently returned from a trip to Italy only an hour ago and was finding his way back home. Broad shoulders pivoted and squeezed between the crowds of pedestrians cluttering the cordoned sidewalks. He traveled between metal rafters, construction areas, and long stretches of tourist luring shops. His hazel eyes, a mix-match of green and swirling brown that alluringly melded together, moved between the sights and sounds of a city under attack by mother nature.

Classy and stoic, the brute wore a deadpanned poker face that didn't express a smile nor frown. Even though Byron's face spoke of age, there were little in the lines of wrinkles or scarring. Smooth cheeks lead to high cheek bones, and a strong jaw was easily discernible from the neck. There was no stubble leading out from his sideburns but a fair amount, well trimmed and maintained, was about the upper and lower lip. A gently pronounced nose that was made for Hollywood accented his handsome features.

To maintain the visage of cleanliness, his jet black hair was shaven short at the sides and rear, while messy and disheveled at the top. Even beneath a tailored and expensive black suit, the outline of bulky muscle drew against the fabrics. Byron had broad, towering shoulders that flowed into generous upper arms and solid forearms. They swayed confidently at his side as he moved through the downpour and descended the stairs into Sloane Square. His right hand nonchalantly smoothed his swaying black tie down between the slopes of his pectorals and chiseled chest, located between the opened halves of a suit jacket.

After disappearing around a corner, beneath the screeching sound of hard braking trains, Byron found himself in the depths of the underground. It was another world, sprawling out like a maze, underneath the modern one above it. His shoes now trotted against the perfectly lined and divided cobblestone beneath. As if fixated in a permanent night, the underground washed him over in the soft glow of gaslamps and decrepit storefronts. Byron tossed a hiss and a narrowed gaze upon a creature that extended its clawed hand and got too close to ripping into his expensive threads at his ankle. He then fished into his inner suit jacket for a pack of smokes, zippo, and a coin before standing in front of the peeling red doors leading into the Manor.

It was standing there that Byron produced a tarnished silver coin and lifted in a single hand over his shoulder, exposing the werebeast hammered into its front siding. The narrowed window cut into the double doors sealed with an eerie screech, and the front barricade removed without a hand lifting it. Byron tucked the coin slyly into an inner breast pocket while an unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his lips. When he was granted passage, the proprietor entered with long strides that seemingly demanded respect from all whom he passed. The amber interior and soft hum of noir piano music beckoned the man home like a welcoming wife her husband.

Byron could smell the stale smoke rising from ashtrays and the mixture of otherworldly scents from his many employees and patrons alike. Stopping near the front, Byron lit his cigarette while letting hazel eyes roam over the bowing shell of the establishment. Familiar faces and new ones alike seemingly bowed their heads as they passed, but Byron didn't give them the same respect. Some of his girls ran a hand slowly over the dips and mounds of his muscled chest, but the man didn't return the favor. Instead, he noticed something toward the rear rooms, opposite where he stood. Her ashen hair caught his richly colored eyes like a fly to flame.

It was only after a few minutes into their conversation that the tendrils of dancing smoke appeared behind her suitor's shoulder. Byron was seated in a crackling leather chaise behind them. His muscular back rested comfortably in the slab of old fashioned cushions with one leg crossed over the other. A long and pensive look seemingly sized up the beauty on her knees in silence. The orange tip of his cigarette illuminated the romantic lighting of their immediate location before it softly returned to a slow burn. Byron pulled the fag from his lips between index and thumb, tipped his head back, and exhaled over his shoulder in a steam stream.

"Leave us..." The man's voice rolled like the thunder outside. It was full of rasp and gruff nature one would expect from a growling wolf. His eyes followed the patron, who was now looking back at the powerful owner of the establishment with a twist of his head toward a shoulder. Byron repeated, "Now."

It was without a word that her visitor dividing her from Byron excused himself with haste, and took his neighbor with him.

 

[Lala]

Something changed in the atmosphere of the club, though Lily was unsure exactly what it was. A soft murmur rippled through when the door swung open with a squeal, but the man she was entertaining had his hand on her cheek again and it would be rude to crane her neck around to inspect the cause. So she sat on her swelling curiosity as best she could, shifting now in place a bit with annoyance, hoping this man would leave so she could slake her thirst for the unknown.

A few moments later, fragrant smoke began drifting up from behind the chaise. Being on her knees and blocked by the man before her, she could see little of the man beyond from her vantage, only catching a whiff of expensive cologne and smoke. But the sound of that deep timbre issuing firm commands had her attention at once. She sat upright as though pulled on strings, her spine going stiff. And the other man seemed quick to obey the gruff orders, leaving her ravenous to find out who held such sway over the patrons.

Her glance drifted sideways to where her friend and co-worker Sara, a succubus, was leaning against the bar. She nodded her head and mouthed something that took Lily a moment to decipher, but when she did, her eyes went coquettishly wide. Mr. Black. That man was Mr. Black?

With the other man gone, she now had a clearer view of the mysterious Manor proprietor. She had been hired while he was away. The woman had said it was unusual for them to do so without Mr. Black's approval, but he seemed to have an abiding fondness for fae, and she seemed to think he would very much approve of Lily. Her kind always did well at the club, always drew the patrons in with their flirtatiously sweet manners.

He was more handsome than she'd expected. She wasn't sure why, but she thought he'd be much older, as warped and twisted as the club he ran. But the man regarding her with a look that spoke of hunger was classically handsome, exceptionally so, well-groomed, with mesmerizing eyes that seemed to shift from brown to green and in between with every flicker of the candlelight. Smoke rose from his cigarette in silence, coiling in the air.

What was she supposed to do? Was she in trouble? Did she do something displeasing already? She let out a slow breath. But he looked placid, not angered. She wasn't sure of the protocol here, though she suspected that if the owner dismissed other patrons, it was because he wanted one's undivided attention.

Silently, she rose from where she knelt and sashayed the few steps around the side of the chaise so that she could stand before the leather one he manned. He'd get a better look at her now, at least in the few moments she stood there before settling herself onto the cushion just to the right of him. "Good evening, Mr. Black," she breathed softly, flashing a sultry glance up at him through the thick fringe of her lashes. "What can I do for you?"

 

[Penitency]

There was a pensive silence mutually shared between the couple now that they had been left by their lonesome. Whisking trails of joyous smoke seemingly danced with the strokes of a piano faintly setting the mood throughout. A muted hum of conversation, distant laughter, and clanking glasses filled the echo chamber of a graciously bowing interior. Between it all, the owner and proprietor simply allowed his calculated eyes to read her like some captivating novel.

Lily could see him mulling over the judging process in the back of his mind, but the score had yet to render. Byron simply fitted his cigarette between his lips again, drew from it, and then leaned over to grab an ashtray seated atop of a nearby end table. It was brought closer to the edge and his cigarette was tapped over it with an index, spilling ash at its glassy center. Following, the Adonis leveled his cigarette with sloping pectorals.

Byron had seen nothing like her before: Lily was elegance incarnate, sin formed into reality. Her body was something he could stand back and simply undress without hands. There was no holding back her body beneath the corset or panties she decidedly snuggled into. As the melodic music continued to ease spirits, the man uncrossed his leg and sat proper. The trails of smoke following his hand seemingly made her boss look like the devil himself, and a handsome one to boot.

His eyes remained upon her as she sauntered over and sat beside him. A slow and welcoming smile began to cut through the flatlined nature of his lips; there was the faint peek of pearly whites and razor sharp canines. "Mm..." The man hummed in agreement, motioning to her with his cigarette wielding hand, "I don't believe we've met before." From what had been a dominant and commanding tone had changed into something more bedroom in nature. Byron's words were whispered and savored like a vampire cooing into the ear of its victim before sinking teeth to flesh.

"But before I ask for more..." A soft sigh pierced his lips, sending a stream of smoke outwards, "you should know you are not my equal, as beautiful as you are." With his words, the man motioned to the floor before him with the tip of her head, expecting her to settle on her knees before him as she had previously. Byron's muscular thighs opened some, as if granting her the ability to find herself closer, and nestled between them.

When, and if, she found herself on her knees, the man would slip his cigarette between his lips before running the smooth surface of his hand along her delicate jaw. His thumb swept over her bottom lip as he peered down at her with his head slightly canted back, confidently. "Tell me..." His cigarette dangling with each word, "what's your name, my love? And how did you end up here, hm?"

 

[Lala]

As a being of legend and lore herself, she was quite used to the feeling of magic, though it seemed a different sort of spell gripped her at the moment. The casual sounds of the club surrounded them, yet seemed diminished as though a barrier had been erected between the ones she had no interest in, and the man before her who interested her greatly. Laughter, music swirled in a muted fashion as though underwater. The stages for public scenes were empty and the private rooms in back were soundproofed, so there was none of the lusty snap of leather crop against flesh or other more carnal sounds. Yet still, she heard them clearly in her mind, perhaps a promise, or hope, of things to come.

It took a lot to make her blush, but she felt a little shy heat creeping along her high cheekbones as his perusal of her continued. His eyes stripped away her clothing and bored right into her, but it was not unwelcome. People always thought of fae as these delicate little creatures, but they were rough and vicious in their own right, and were often attracted to those who shared such natures.

When he did finally speak, she answered with a little shake of her head, scattering a bit of her natural perfumes around her. "No, Sir, I have not have the pleasure."

Another short, understanding nod at his statement. The tip of her tongue peeked very slightly between her plush tiers, moistening them with a slow run. "Of course not, Sir." When he beckoned her closer from where she sat beside him, she bridged the distance with a short crawl. Her body wedged in between his thighs, sitting up on her haunches a bit, and delicate fingers slid over the tops of the expensive material of his pants. She could feel the firm flex of muscles beneath, the promise of strength. The whole room was watching, though at least a few of them were trying to be a bit more subtle about it. She didn't even have to look around her to feel all those eyes riveted to this little corner.

"My name is Lily Rose, Sir," she whispered. "Lily." In this world of their own right now, she needn't raise her voice above that, considering the intimate space she found herself in between his knees. "And I had heard of this place when I crossed over from the Faelands. I'm sure you know we prefer to spend our time there rather than this world, considering how mundane this place can be. But I thought The Manor sounded anything but mundane..."

Her chin tilted up when his fingers played along the curve of her jaw, exposing the white expanse of her neck to this alluring predator. At the touch of his thumb to her lips, they parted slightly in silent invite. "And I was right."

 

[Penitency]

Feeling the Fae's hands smooth the material of his slacks to tree-trunk thighs forced a soft hum of pleasure to seep between warm lips. From her new position, Lily was welcomed to the sight of his green eyes swirling with brown accent like the bottom of a forest covered in branch and brush. The heat of her body mingling with his own stirred something within, but her owner and check-writer looked as cool as the rainy breeze billowing above the city streets. A rumble of distant thunder reached the depths of the club and seemingly hinted to the power her hands grasped, and the wicked folklore seated before her.

"A Fae..." Byron smirked and tilted his head to the side as if admitting someone had punched his ticket, "such a charm to have your kind in my fine establishment." Her inviting lips were opened when Byron's thumb pressed gently, but he did not further explore. Instead, he continued to roam her with hand and eyes for their initial contact. To dip too deep, and take what he wanted so soon, would sour the moment. No, he'd let it age like fine wine first.

"I can promise you it is anything but." Byron's hand slowly removed themselves from her chin now. He lingered on the sight of her chin and the curve of her jaw, dipping down to the jut of her breasts, before looking over so he could tip ash in the ashtray beside him. Another drag of the cigarette lured eyes upon Lily in a narrowed fashion, as if so focused on dwindling the cigarette that was growing shorter with every passing minute. It was pulled, lowered down to his hip and near her hand, and Byron exhaled away from her slyly.

"Hmm..." His smile subtly reemerged, pulling at his lips patiently, "your kind have always interested me the most. Your smell... your beauty..." Byron waved around his cigarette before his chest as if emphasizing his words, "elegance and charm. But you..." Reaching over with his chiseled arm shifted the opened suit jacket, forcing pectorals to press tightly to the button up shirt beneath. Byron's tie shifted in the force of momentum as he grounded the fag out in the glass tray before sitting straight.

"are something even greater than that. It's not something I admit often, but I am fortunate that you've come." Byron's smile widened some, showing the old charm of a powerful beast within. A corset wearing hostess holding an empty tray over her shoulder came to stop besides them, shifting her weight to one hip and bowing her head. Byron tore his eyes from Lily, looked up at the new arrival and mentioned in coarse pitch, "Helen, Scotch on the rocks, please. And Lily..." He'd look back down at her, "drink?"

If or when she ordered, the hostess bowed with a "Yes Sir" and went to fetch their drinks. Byron blew the last remnants of smoke through his nostrils and brushed her hair back over her ear with a thumb, letting his hand cup the side of her head now, "Tell me, Lily. Have you served a man before?"

 

[Lala]

Aside from their renowned beauty, fae could be stubborn little things, possessing of iron wills and wishes. Stories abounded of their playfully wicked ways that more often than not led to the downfall of the protagonist when caught in a web surrounded by twinkling laughter and elegantly flitting bodies. But to captivate a fae, to put one off guard and lower her defenses truly -- that was something akin to quenching a dragon's flames.

And Lily, she could play dragon as well as damsel, as it suited her. Woe unto the man ensnared by those sapphire eyes and comely glances. Were she a succubus, there would be no short order of corpses surrounding her with their life forces drained completely. Such was her nature.

But here, on her knees, staring up at the handsome figure looming over her, she felt her fire dying down and yet another, different flame stoked at the same time. Her fingers gripped tighter momentarily on his thighs as the thunder shook this hidden place, earning a soft laugh and demure duck of her chin when he released her. She enjoyed the way his gaze dipped, drinking in the ample mounds of flesh displayed by her corset. And in turn, her eyes followed every peak and valley of his body that she could see hinted at beneath the confines of his suit.

"How lovely of you to say so, Sir," she said. Her body was stock still, remaining pressed between his legs, the warmth from his body seeping into hers. She tilted her head aside to take in the hostess who approached. Helen. She was some sort of enchanted sea creature who had to slip back into the Thames each night before the sun rose again. She had also taken an immediate dislike to Lily upon her arrival, so she took great pleasure in the seething jealousy showing on her face now when she spied the fae tucked in at their boss's feet. She mirrored his order. "Scotch on the rocks."

Helen gave her another black look after bowing her head once more to the owner and then trotted off to do her job. Lily caught sight of Sara at the bar still, hanging off some rich vampire who didn't seem too worried about his life force being siphoned by a succubus. Her friend gave her a big wink and then made a face at Helen as she passed. Lily bit down on her lip slightly to keep from laughing, but she did not have her eyes or mind off Mr. Black for more than a moment.

The feeling of fingers tracing through her hair, gliding along the sensitive point of an ear, had her sobered at once, rapt in her attention on him. Her head tipped slightly to his hand. "I've had my share of suitors. I've nodded and smiled and done as they asked. I've enjoyed playing so many games. But served?" Her lips tipped up in a ghost of a smile, fingers walking slightly higher up his pants. Red-lacquered nails dragged lightly over the inner seam. "No, I can't say I've ever served a man. As I've found none yet worth serving." She darted another falsely demure look up at him. "Why?"

 

[Penitency]

Byron relished in the feeling of the smooth silk of her hair falling through his fingers in the process of tucking errant strands behind her pointed ear. Hazel eyes simply watched his hand work for a moment; Lily could feel the very fingertips of his large hand skimming over the uppermost ridge of her ear. Byron moved further and further until only the phantom touch of his soft fingers remained upon the prickles of transparent hair at the very tip. A slow and patient breath was sucked in through his nose, pushing looming pectorals forth against the button up that tried its best to contain them. "Have you?" The man questioned nonchalantly now in his whispered volume among the gentle ruckus of the club, "Games? I want to hear about them. What games have you played, my Lily?"

There was a moment they had been interrupted again. Helen found herself trotting around Lily, holding the tray that was now occupied with two rocks glasses full of sloshing Johnny Walker Gold Label. She carefully leaned over and placed them down on the end table nearby, thudding against the solid oak but not done to irritate or disturb. When the two drinks had been discarded, the waitress bowed her head with another, "sir" before walking off. The girls did not trade eyes this time, but Byron had not even noticed. He was far too busy and enthralled by his newest hire that he wanted nothing more than to figure her out. Byron wanted to learn more to make unwrapping her that much more gratifying.

Undoubtedly, the proprietor bit down on his bottom lip because he felt the red colored nails of hers dragging over the inner seems of his slacks. Lily's forward and aggressive nature wasn't scolded nor stopped. Instead, and oddly enough, the male before he seemingly allowed it to continue. To Byron, there was something insatiable about a forward submissive who did everything she could to get the attention from the man she wanted before wholeheartedly letting him take advantage of her opening. When she had answered his question in return, Lily found the brute did not do the same. Her question was left unanswered for reason. Byron would not say why as he reached over, collecting his glass before bringing it before his chest.

"I want to know because..." Byron lifted his glass, the perspiring rim finding his bottom lip, "normally I interview before we hire. I think my manager figured you were exactly my type. Body and spirit, so she took the liberty." Following his words, the man slowly tipped back his glass and sipped. The handcut slab of ice within clanked against its confinement as if asking to be freed. Byron's throat shifted as he swallowed down with a slow, content sigh. He felt the strong contents burn and awaken his aging soul deep down; green-brown eyes remained upon her the whole time. His glass was lowered before his chest, and a wicked grin began to take hold of his lips once more.

"So I am ever curious..." He pointed briefly at her with the hand holding the glass, an index finger curling out to her, "of your qualifications for being one of my girls. Maybe my favorite one, to boot." He teased.

 

[Lala]

As he continued to lightly caress those delicate ears, her lids swept shut and she let out a soft hum like a contented kitten. When he inquired further of her, eyes peeled open to fix upon his once more. "Oh," she said softly, pressing a finger lightly to her lips as though in deep thought, "I don't know if you would like to hear of my games. They might be a bit too racy for you, these games." Silver laughter fluttered, the sweet sound of a delighted fae at play. She was most certainly playing with him now, eyes hooding in sly teasing.

She didn't touch her drink yet when it arrived, staying in place where she was. She well caught the soft nip of his own lip as her nails toyed so lightly along the inseam, seeing that he appeared to enjoy it. He didn't stop her, at least. She liked discovering this about him, seeing how much he would let her get away with. She could be very obedient when driven to it, but half the fun was nudging a man along to see if he indeed had the drive.

This man, she was much enjoying. Her kind was so fond of beauty as a rule, and he held the sort of good looks that admittedly made her breath hitch a bit each time she dared look into his pointed gaze. A combination of rugged attractiveness and strength that made her want to stay where she was, perhaps for a good while. She was not a wilting violet or a pushover, given to flights of fancy every time a handsome man smiled her way -- indeed, that would leave her little time for anything else, as her trap was particularly enticing to most around here it seemed. But on rare occasion, she found herself transfixed. It happened to fae sometimes. There were stories about them bewitched by humans and all sorts of creatures, even their own reflections at times. She was half hoping he would be horribly boring and rude, hardly an object worthy of her attention. But that didn't seem to be the case so far, and blood ran hotter.

Her head tilted aside, spilling the bounty of white-gold curls aside even further, baring the entirety of her neck and bosom in a casual motion. He was no vampire, but he was a predator -- she could feel that off him -- and they loved such displays of that most vulnerable area. "She did say it was unusual to do so without you present, but I promised to be good. Very good," she murmured. She still didn't reach for her drink, seeming rather content to stay where she was for the time. She couldn't very well use his leg as a coaster, and rising didn't seem like an option. Plus, her fingers still were drawing idle figures up and down. Seeming an afterthought, an unconscious action perhaps, though she was absolutely aware of what she was doing.

She set her teeth on her lower lip in thought, furrowing her brow to make the picture whole. "Hm...my qualifications? I'm sure they're obvious, no?" She was playing again, always content to do so. Her laugh cut the air again, her eyes glinting stars. "Your favorite already? Why, you haven't even let me earn that."

 

[Penitency]

The presentation of her taunt neck drew Byron's eyes for a moment; his thoughts lingered before falling down the generous valley of her bubbling cleavage. If Lily was observant, she'd come to find he was most allured by the weight of her bust and how it settled within her corset. Byron washed it away with the sip of his drink. Again, the ice within audibly shifted against its confinement like a complaining prisoner. An audible and prolonged sigh spilled from his nose, letting the burning sensation trickle down the throat. It was as if the owner of the club was washing down his temptations and burning them before coming to fruition. "Mm, no, tell me." Her playful words were met with stoic and stern ones, as if sharply cracking a leather whip to draw her attention.

"Like I said, I am simply getting to know you for the first time." Byron motioned to her with his glass, tipping it in her direction, before having another sip. The brown, transparent fluid within looked like the smooth surface of the bar counter. It sloshed about, crashing against the ice like an ocean wave about the rocks dotting a shoreline. With a majority of it still left, the man lowered the glass preceding the sip. Lower and lower it went until he was holding it before her stunning facial features. Byron ran a tongue across his lower lip slowly to collect any excess alcohol that might have lingered. In the process, he offered her his glass of scotch, "Drink."

When she took the glass, Byron simply ran the back of a hand across the same lips he had just swiped with his tongue. His voice was muted because of the hand until it lowered, "Your body has earned it already, Lily. You got this in the bag. All you need to do is seal the deal with your exuberant spirit. You're a fae, after all. It can't be so hard, right?" A playful smirk tugged at his lips again along the very light stubble surrounding them. Even without a smoke dangling from his lips, her proprietor was just as charming, suave, and smooth. Just as smooth as the Gold Label she sipped from as it softly fell down her gullet before leaving a smoldering burn that lasted less than a millisecond.

"There is always two sides to a coin, though." His voice softly slipped from him like a viper. Byron's rocky baritone softly hummed in a low volume beneath the striking keys of a piano, "It doesn't mean much if you're simply my favorite to look at. You'll indeed need to earn my longterm interests." Following the sentence, the wolf reached down to softly take the glass from her, as if two chain smokers sharing a cigarette. Another sip was taken with the tip of his head before being lowered. His tone was more serious, and hazel eyes biting back into her own, "So, when I ask you a question, I expect honesty. So, tell me, love..." He reached out to the side while looking at her, putting the glass down, "I want to know your past. Your racy games."

A finger curled underneath her chin now, angling her eyes into his so she couldn't look away. His thumb brushed softly against her chin in the process, and his face drew closer. Their lips inches apart as he whispered, "And you can do it while you remove every shred of clothing from your body, starting with this corset."

 

[Lala]

Lily definitely noticed the course of his gaze. How could she miss it when they were in their own little world here despite the quite frenetic buzz of the Friday night crowd. And it was because she noticed it that she leaned forward slightly, not only to give him a better view, but to let her cleavage jiggle a bit in the shifting. Her corset was laced so tightly that it looked like a mere sneeze could release her assets. As he drank, she played with a coil of light hair, letting it fall in the deep valley with her fingers tracing slowly around it, around the soft clefts begging for touch.

His tone did get her attention, earned a shift in posture that surely he'd take note of when he saw. She sat up on her haunches and wrapped porcelain hands around the offered glass, slowly raising it to her lips to draw a smooth nip of the scotch. She closed her eyes momentarily and drew a deep breath, savoring the deep flavor of the liquor once the burn had subsided. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to collect the lingering bit of scotch from her lips as she peered up at him. At that moment, a bit of cold condensation from the ice melt in the glass plopped dead center on her decolletage, making her let out a soft little gasp followed quickly by laughter as the droplet slowly followed gravity down into her valleys.

She handed the glass back to him when he reached out, resetting her hands daintily on his thigh. This time, one atop the other, still sitting upright on her haunches like a pup begging for praise. The lush pillow she knelt on was thick enough that her knees were still quite comfortable, and she could stay here happily for as long as he liked.

Her lips parted, a question perched, silenced when he pressed on for information about her games. She leaned in to the finger impelling her to look at him, drawn by the cadence of his voice and the firm shift of his body under her hands when he bent forward. Her chest rose and fell, offering still that generous view, quicker now as his mouth drew nearer. She began to speak again, to put into words all the lewd games she had played, halted by his final request.

That certainly garnered a reaction. Soft color suffused her high cheeks like the first kiss of dawn. Though her exploits were many, she wasn't quite used to so public an exhibition. The sounds of the club had crescendoed, voices and music and merriment. Hardly an empty seat in the club now, it seemed, though she was too rapt in her attention on him to confirm it. That little tongue made another appearance, moistening her lips that were suddenly dry. "Here? Out here, Sir?" she asked, wrestling her tone to something steady. Making it seem like she was only confirming but not questioning his command. "Then, I'll need help. It laces up the back, see?" With his hand on her chin, she could not turn to show what she meant, but she reached a hand back to gesture. "So I'll need your assistance. Though, it's getting so loud out here. Would you prefer somewhere more private?" she asked, swallowing thickly. Her heart rate had increased, more heat rising to her cheeks, her body, which only made her scent of a spring garden intensify. "Whatever you desire...it's your club after all, Mr. Black."

 

[Penitency]

There was a rather amused grin beginning to take hold of his scotch flavored lips. Byron seemed to be humored by her squirming and the uneasiness of his last request. Truthfully, the poor girl had yet to be exposed to the more... refined... aspects of this gentleman's club. And while he would be the sole proprietor to her body following tonight, the man wasn't above to showing her off. Besides, there was nothing like being the brute who was envied instead of doing the envying. Byron wanted her to do whatever he willed at the drop of his voice, and now was the beginning of her humiliation to make that true. His hand softly brushed its thumb continuously along the front of her chin. Byron's eyes remained locked within her own as if they sensed the hesitation and fear inside of her. While Lily might have played games, it was obvious they were not on his caliber yet.

"Lily..." His voice whispered with its gravely nature, "are you questioning my commands?" A brow quirked curiously as she fought to remain steady. Her predator, the man who owned so much, was beginning to understand her as his doe. An innocent, frightened one he should break. Her words, and the hand gesture, drew Byron's eyes toward her shoulder. They lingered for a moment in thought and almost plodded out her words with the piano music playing in the background. Despite the growing crowd and magnified hum of conversation, Byron was moving forward with business as if they had been all alone beneath the Victorian design and metal accents. The delicate yellow glow of the candle light trapped within hanging globes seemingly made his hazel eyes dance with the flaring embers.

"Have you not played such games before, my beautiful Fae?" Her boss softly ran the back of his hand along her cheek now. She could feel the hardened and calloused nature of his knuckles dragging against the smooth texture of her angelic face. He simply looked back at her with a backwards tipped head, oozing confident and a self-assured air about him. As she confirmed his proprietorship, Byron leaned forwards. Looming pectorals came closer to her face than ever, and his radiating body heat washed over her entire form. Both arms curled over her shoulders and around her face, almost smothering her into his carved chest. Nimble fingers simply tugged and undid the top knot of her laces, which then lead to the natural loosening of the entire band beneath.

Byron's head leaned forwards, now they were cheek to cheek. Flesh nuzzled flesh, and he softly let his warm lips speak directly into her ear, "I do own this club. I also own you." A grim yet seductive pitch rolled forth. His hot breath softly embraced her sensitive lobe before brushing by. Byron grasped the left and right halves of her corset now that the knot had been undone. Biceps flared up against her shoulders as he gave one firm tug, pulling the halves away to suddenly let air rush into her lungs. The tightness of the corset had been undone, and now she would be allowed to simply unclasp the front by herself. Before he leaned back, Byron ran his lips against her neck, just beneath the crook of her jaw. A firm kiss trailed before pearly whites bit into her firmly, tugged, then released.

Sitting up straight proceeding, the male motioned with a finger, "Now... stand. This interview isn't over..." The finger twirled following, "everything comes off. Every. Last. Bit." The man seemed to savor his words. The letters dragged and his eyes made sure they kept to her own.

 

[Lala]

She held out some small hope that he would sense her hesitance and adjourn their rendezvous to a private back room somewhere. There were so many curious eyes on them now. Though it was not uncommon to see a nude girl wandering around the club visiting and bouncing on laps and drawing gazes with her, Lily had hoped she would eventually work up to that. She was thoroughly unused to doing anything for public consumption, and it showed in the nervous tremble of her lower lip as she peered at him.

Shaking her head firmly, she flexed her fingers against his pants. "No! No, Sir! I...I just wanted to be sure that's what you meant," she murmured, lowering her lids briefly to shield her gaze from that unyielding stare of his. He saw right through her, she knew. For all her toying and talk about games, he knew she was scarcely as experienced as she pretended. And he had asked for truth wIth him. So, when he inquired of her history of games such as these, she merely shook her head once more, dropping her gaze shyly now. "No, Mr. Black. Not games like these," she breathed.

Her breath hitched a little at the slow draw of his hand over the softness of her cheek. With how fast her pulse was racing, with how hot her cheeks felt, every caress was intensified. She inhaled a deep lungful of his scent when he reached behind to her laces, folding her within the bounds of strong arms, strong thighs, a powerful presence. The laces loosened, allowing her to take a deeper breath for the first time in a while, starting to release the firm breasts that had been pushed up nearly to her throat by the tight lacing.

The brush of lips over the sensitive point of her ear, the warmth of his breath, raised goosebumps on her arms and all the way up and down her spine. And the words themselves, oh those words, brought a tantalizing tingle to every inch of flesh. Was it the truth? Not yet, at least. There was so much more that would involve bringing those words to fruition. But at this moment, as she struggled to obey his desires despite the shy flames lighting up her pale cheeks, he was well on his way.

When he peeled apart the opening to her corset, fully unlaced now, she basked in the fullness of the breath that it allowed. The front had already begun to slide down a bit and she reached to remove the structured garment. But she was wholly unprepared for the trace of lips over neck, and certainly not for the sharp pinch of his teeth on her throat. She arched up with a hungry sound deep in her throat, pulling her corset up over her head to release those soft pillows that had been such an object of his desire already.

Unleashed, they perhaps exceeded his expectations. Lush, supple mounds of flesh capped with dainty rosebud nubs that were already straining at the first lick of cool air over the tips, along with the ghost of the sensation of his mouth on her throat. Just as smooth and white as the rest of her flesh, they were of such a size that even his large, strong hands would scarcely cover them. Pert and perky, they nevertheless kept a natural shape. Beyond the showstopping peaks of her breasts, a taut, toned belly flexed. Her waist was small enough that she didn't even need a corset to give her a pleasant shape, and her hips were wide and padded with ample flesh for grabbing in the throes of ecstasy. All she had on now was the little sequined thong and her heels. The thong showed off the lovely roundness of her rear. All together, her body would not be out of place carved into marble.

She stood when bidden, that he could take it all in, keeping her eyes fixed on him. Her cheeks blazed with heat, keenly aware now of the other men in the room glancing this way, licking lips idly at the new toy unwrapping. Her gaze stayed with him though as she hooked her fingers into the band of her thong and slowly began to slide it down over those curvy hips, lower, slowly, letting it slide down to a pile on the floor. A slight kick slid it across the floor to rest at his feet. He might get a quick glimpse of petite netherlips peeking from between her legs, hiding tight little secrets, before she self-consciously brought a hand up to cover her sex and her breasts. She didn't even realize she was doing it, and wouldn't, until he said something or ordered her further.

 

[Penitency]

Lily's confessions were the reason why Byron had extended the conversation passed the laughter and games; he wanted to dig for the truth, and understand the extent of the Fae's maturity to truly know how much work he had to do. There was no doubt, even in the presence of her inexperience, that Byron wanted her to be his personal pet and submissive. Her body was something rare and unseen of. While he knew her kind was known for being bombastic and buxom, he had yet to see something as eye catching as her. It also helped that she happened to be employed by him, thus giving the proprietor a little more leverage to lean on her with. Now he had to work on her timid nature and lack of background. Byron was determined to warp her into something as corrupt as himself no matter how long it took.

Every reaction of her body, every gasp and arch, meant he was prodding at her molten core. Byron didn't need an invitation to know her velvet chamber was most likely growing damp in the thong that barely covered her. He could almost feel the burn in her lithe stomach beneath the corset that was being slipped off of her curvaceous figure. A heightened sense of smell began to pick up on the sweet, natural perfume of body. It was something the male could simply sit back and slowly inhale deeply to. Not to mention the fact that it was so fucking intoxicating to him. Looming pectorals could be seen pushing outwards, lifting the tie, white button up, and suit jacket with them as he sucked in a breath.

Observant eyes merely watched now as she unleashed what he wanted to see. Lily's overly ample mounds came spilling out into view. He studied her long and hard with a narrowed gaze that could not discern whether he was satisfied or disappointed. She could see his green and brown, swirling irises shifting across the round figure of her chest and the erect nipples capping them. Byron didn't touch her yet. No, instead, he merely watched as she timidly continued. Now Byron was plunging lower like the v-cut of his hips, examining her own as they flared outwards to form an exaggerated hourglass figure. Thoughts of digging his hands in while slamming into her ripe ass flooded the mind and kept the happy proprietor silent for now. He was always so calm, collected, and calculated.

Now that Lily was standing, he was able to put the picture together. Her body was as if carved from the Heavens and thrown down to Earth for someone as superior as himself to enjoy. Just the sight of her made the lingering taste of scotch on Byon's lip taste stale. Gold Label lost in comparison to the delight it was to watch her body shift so elegantly. Even though many, if not all, of the male eyes in the club were upon her, Byron did not pay them heed. She was all that needed his attention at this moment. Some of the conversation had even died down now, the clanking of glasses less than a second ago. The piano music grew louder now that it wasn't competing with some many elements.

Byron knew she was timid and shy. Berating her, or yelling at her to remove her arms, would only shell shock her further into the depths of recluse. No, he would never. Instead, Byron leaned forwards now. Hazel eyes lifted to lock with her own before closing. Both hands softly took hold of her hips now. Large and thick fingers curled and bit into her hips at the sides. Holding her in place, she would come to feel his hot breath on her naval. Byron slowly began to plant his lips against her stomach, leading from just below the naval until he was over it. His tongue slowly tickled at her inner belly button playfully, a grin lacing his lips seductively from below.

"Mmn..." A vibration groan was translated from his lips to her stomach. She could heard the soft smacks of his lips touching down and releasing until he peered up at her with the tilt of his head back, "You have nothing to be shy about. This is your new home, and no one will ever embarrass you under my possession. You're free here." The words were whispered and low. Byron's right hand slowly left her hip, and dragged itself until reaching the fall-off of her pelvis. Hands cupped between her thighs, over her own hand covering her petite lips. The pad of his index finger pushed between two of her fingers, nudging between their webbing, to press upon the hood of her clit and slowly rotate a circle of friction before dragging firm and full, up and down.

"Look at me, Lily..." He hummed, "you're mine now. All of you."

 

[Lala]

She could scarcely believe that she was standing essentially bare, in the middle of a busy club. It still really only felt like it was the two of them alone there, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Her cheeks shone with that natural flush as she stood like Venus trying to maintain her modesty while the crowd moved around them.

Mr. Black was looking at her in such a hungry, calculating way. Beneath the frantic clip of her heart, driven by her shy embarrassment at being publicly nude, lust coursed strong and adamant. Beyond her blooming garden scent, something more complex and sweeter began to emerge. The stirring of her desires melded with her garden in a perfume akin to delicate vanilla. Indeed, despite her trepidation now, her dainty petals moistened with need.

She saw him drawing in her scent. She had some idea what he might be, though it was rude to ask a mythic outright. Sometimes it was quite obvious. Sometimes, like with Mr. Black, it was a bit more subtle, but the utterly dominating edge to the stares he gave her suggested certain races. If he was what she thought, it explained the possessive look in his eye now. Wolves always wanted what they wanted, and let nothing stand in their way to get it.

But did he truly want her? He desired her, certainly. There could be no mistaking that look. She wanted him to want her. She could not explain the stirring in her core, the desire to serve that no other had really drawn out of her. Others had certainly tried, receiving a laughing rebuff or a firsthand look at fae fury. He was rich, handsome, and successful. Those things were all wonderful and good, but there was something more to him and she loved the way the flames in his eyes spoke of a mind already tracing the possibilities.

The feel of firm hands clamping onto her plush hips, the hot wash of breath on her belly...it was almost too much for her. She tipped her hips forward in want, head tilting back slightly to issue a low sigh through parted lips. And when he flicked his tongue out to tease her navel, a shiver rippled all the way through, making her already-rigid nipples stiffen even more, standing out like rocks from her buoyant, bounteous chest.

She looked back down and nodded as he spoke, her face a map of burgeoning obedience. He must be experienced enough to see how anxious she was to serve, but also her timidness when he had, quite literally, stripped her of her defenses. Her body certainly was ready. For when he nudged apart her slender fingers with his much larger digit, he’d find just how slick and swollen she was for him. The touch on her button made her shift with a sudden sharp inhale, hips pushing again wantonly toward her tormentor. At this point, a bomb could go off in the club and she wouldn't hear it. There was nothing else here but him.

At his order, she again looked down at him where he sat commanding the leather seat. She stood before him, a bud waiting to be cultivated and opened into a flower of his making. Her eyes quivered with uncertainty; this was all new. He’d need to show her the way with a gentle -- or rather, firm -- hand.

“Yes, Mr. Black,” she answered. It was a forgone conclusion. She suspected he’d felt the undeniable connection between them from first glance. Some things just felt destined. And she was destined to be his.

 

[Penitency]

From what had turned into an interview was evolving into a mixture of sexual need beyond the act of questioning. Demanding hazel eyes peered up to Lily from the height of her naval; Byron watched as her hips pushed forwards as if presenting a present to her new Master. There was no doubt he could see how anxious she was to further delve into the proprietor's promises of ownership. The fact that she was so memorized by the thought of it all seemed to please him greatly, but the collected scene of confidence across his handsome face was never lost. Their eyes were locked into one another sensually. Byron's finger evolved to two, index and middle, prodding her sopping core using their fingertips as if asking permission to enter.

"Good girl..." The man continued with a grin beginning to twist his lips patiently again, "you're dripping wet." He slowly drew circles along the tightened entrance of her cunt. Byron followed the very folds that inwardly tucked to her velvet chambers. At the same time, his thumb had joined the forefront to brush its thicker pad firmly against her clit. All three digits seemingly moved with one objective in mind - to get her so weak she couldn't stand. Index and middle fingers both soon plunged inside of her after angling themselves just right with her airtight entrance. A subtle groan hinted his pleasure with how tight she was; Lily's insides clutched both fingers as if it had never seen an insertion before.

Without a centimeter more of room, the two long invaders began to pump themselves upwards, back and forth, until their knuckles found impact with her outer folds. Byron's thumb further brushed against her clit with the upward thrusts of his hand. Muscular forearm and toned bicep seemingly expanded against the long sleeve of his suit jacket in the process of it all. The predatory Wolf soon sat straight up, leaning his head back from her, but kept eyes leveled into her own.

He was testing her still, feeling how well she hugged his mere two fingers. Byron wanted to see how her body reacted and how well it soaked his palm. Byron could feel streams of her sweet fluids beginning to crest down the lines of his palm before falling across the floor. There was something about how warm and pleasing it was to bask in her scent and overarching pleasure on display. Again, he slowly drew in a deep inhale that could audibly be heard through his nose. The stale smoke of the room had been plodded out with the welcoming scent of only Lily's now.

In his attempt to show his claim to the rest of the patrons in the club, whom some were still looking on, Byron began to stand up now. His fingers pushed in, knuckles deep, and held for a moment. Byron then used his free hand to grasp the back of her neck. In one swift motion, the proprietor pinned the beautiful Fae to the furniture. She'd find herself bent over the chaise that he had been seated on previously, with her chest pillowing out against the flat leather surface, and ass jutting out. As she remained bent over, Byron used the hand along the back of her neck to keep her firmly pinned. His eyes washed over her spine as he began to feverishly pump his fingers inside of her, instructing his fingertips to drag against her inner channel the whole time as he thrusted.

His suit jacket swayed about the sculpted muscle of his chest in the process, too. Byron held her down with one hand, and the other ferociously pistoned; upper body was forced to lean over her some as he did so. Byron swallowed her in his silhouette now and hissed down to her as a Wolf got want he wanted by all means, "I can't hear you, Lily. Who owns you?" There was something endearing in his effort to have Lily squirt her fluids all across the floor, make her profess her submission, and then leave her a sopping mess after that would ward off any viewing customer from trying to speak to her after. Byron wanted her exclusively, and was going to brainwash that fact into her mind right here and now.

Both fingers were bottoming out now with every plunge. The man hissed greedily, "Louder!"

 

[Lala]

Lily was keenly aware of the nuances floating across those intense eyes turned upon her. This was certainly no usual interview. But of course it wasn’t, she knew. Mr. Black had asked her to be his, in words and actions and the way he looked up at her now.

She bit down slightly on her lower lip, gaze riveted to his, releasing a soft groan when his fingers moved and began to explore the valley between sodden lips. The ecstasy his praise brought was nearly as titillating a pleasure as the fingers starting to investigate new property. To hear those words - good girl - made her hum softly, an almost subconscious sound falling from her lips. She wanted to hear them again and again, and she would do everything he asked of her and more in order to receive that wonderful gift.

Her lips pressed tighter, throat moving with a visible swallow when his thumb started to toy with her swollen clit and his other fingers torturously danced around until she thought she’d die of anticipation if he didn’t sample her soon. She was indeed already soaked, so when he chose to penetrate her with those thick fingers, he’d find nothing but silken walls welcoming him for the first time. And welcome they did, by clamping down on even just two digits with a sort of vise grip that hinted just how firmly she’d grip the rest of him.

She was aching and yet still not prepared for when he began to thrust them into her. Her back arched, chin tipped up with a guttural sound. It was not long at all before he’d find a slow trickle of her juices cascading down his fingers. Her body twitched slightly as he played, knees starting to buckle a bit. Eyes grew dreamy and enslaved to the pleasure, though still she held enough of a flush on her cheeks that revealed she was horrifically embarrassed by the humiliation of being naked and fingered in a crowded club.

She was sinking slowly, half supported by the press of his fingers upward into her. Her walls quivered and squeezed down on him despite their slickness, despite the rivulets of honey now tracing down the insides of silken thighs in lewd trails. She gasped at the sound of a drop smacking hard against the wood floor. Cheeks went a brighter crimson as he had her literally dripping in the middle of the Manor. She closed her eyes in shame, seeing how many glances they’d now attracted. It would be hard not to notice what was going on. And she suspected that’s exactly what he desired.

Her legs were just about to give way completely when he took a firm hold of her neck and then bent her right over onto the chaise, so she was thankful for it. She melted, sagging into the chair with her cheek flat against the leather, large breasts mashed so hard they spilled out to the sides, and that round bubble of a rear wagging brazenly in the air. Asking for it so badly even though she was on fire with humiliation.

Then there was the matter of that strong hand wrapped around the back of her neck. It was a grip so hard she couldn’t fight it even if she wanted to, though she found herself pushing back against it just slightly so that she could feel how strong his command of her was. She panted softly at the hard dip of his fingers into her depths, and then wailed into the chaise as he began to vigorously thrust fingers in and out of her so fast she could hardly breathe.

His scent and the feeling of his body hovering over her, pinning her, possessing her, was almost more than she could take. Coupled with the frenzied motions of his fingers, it wouldn’t be long before she’d unleash a tidal wave of lust on the polished wooden planks. Her body writhed in unbridled pleasure as he strummed her like a finely tuned instrument. Lewd, wet sounds filled the air.

“Y-you do, Mr. Black,” she gasped, bucking and squirming as little jets of fluid began to burst from her under his direction. It started deep in her core: that familiar rising heat, unfurling slowly, tickling the pleasure centers in her brain, expanding, rolling to the tips of her toes and fingers until all at once every muscle fiber in her body seemed to contract at the same time. Her face was a symphony of pleasures, lips quivering with lust-addled gibberish spouted in the interim between her outbursts to verify his claim. “Mr. Black owns me!” she screamed for all to hear as everything came to a head.

A startling gush of her juices splattered loudly against the floor. Again. And again. Her climax seemed to go on forever as she panted and gasped and thrashed under him. All the while her spasming walls clenched and squeezed on his fingers in rippling waves that mirrored the visible muscle contractions wracking her entire body. She wilted with one final wail of release, sagging against the chaise with her chest heaving, a veritable deluge flooding the floor beneath her.

 

[Penitency]

For such a raunchy sight, the patrons within the gentlemen's club were anything but disturbed. No, instead, they looked upon the scene with delighted grins and deviant smiles. It didn't matter if one was sipping a drink with their favorite girl, or had been sharing a long conversation, it had all been set aside to watch the proprietor of this establishment in rare form. The times in which Byron had openly exhibited sexual acts in public were far and few; matter of fact, many of the girls could count them on one hand with fingers to spare. But they were all greeted by the man's brash actions that saw no remorse tonight.

Lily's melodic moans cut through the keystrokes of the piano music playing in the background as if she was singing to the rhythm. The delightful sight of her body's hypersensitivity pleased Byron to no end. His warm and alcohol flavored lips slowly curled into a grin along his handsome face. Hazel colored eyes admired the fit nature of her back flowing into the bubbly cheeks of her ass with admiration. There was no doubt that many stared at her breasts spilling out against the groaning leather of the chaise, or the way Byron's forearm bumped against the bottom of her cheeks and made her backside quake. Again and again, his long fingers plunged until he jabbed her with his knuckles softly.

Then, she gave him the evidence he wanted. Byron witnessed her jets of fluid begin to soak the furniture and dot the hardwood. Some of it began to trickle over the smooth texture of his dress shoes. Byron didn't move nor avoid it, instead, he kept up the assault as her velvet channel squeezed him like a vice. If the initial bout of spray wasn't enough, her finale was. Byron groaned lowly as just the feeling of how tight she was hugging his damn fingers. Her body seemingly convulsed over him like an earthquake, her thighs shaking, and the release ended it. He felt her body go limp, fluids now streaming like a river into the grooves that divided wood planks. It was as if she had just been the victim of a murder, her blood staining the floors.

Byron pulled his two fingers from her insides. They were absolutely drenched and dripping, adding to the puddles beneath after the long fall. A brief curl of his tongue around a finger savored her flavor before a fellow employee came over in her bright blue corset. A hand towel was extended in her hands, head bowed, and Byron looked upon her professionally. Taking the item, Byron began to run it over his hands so the fluids didn't further dot his expensive suit. It was like a doctor taking a cloth from his assistant after a well delivered surgery. Instead, he left his girl a crumpled mess across the chaise.

"See that she gets cleaned and pampered..." Byron turned a gaze toward his shoulder, looking at his beautiful chaos across the chaise, "make sure a collar is sized for her. Then, send her to my quarters. I'll put it on myself."

With his words, Byron handed the cloth back, stole one last look at Lily, and began to walk toward the rear rooms to reach his office. There was almost a cold demeanor in which he did such things, but it was all done to prove a lesson. Lily was not above, and would not be. She was meant to serve him in whatever way the proprietor, her Master, saw fit. Long and confident strides began to lead him through a narrow hall, shrouded in the mere glow of a gaslamp here and there, with wood doors lining the left and right parallel to one another. Private rooms. Sound proof and silent, they beckoned the passerby to use their imagination as to what was beyond.

It was only when the man reached a red iron door at the dead end of the channel that Byron reached out, pulled it open with an eerie screech from the hinges, and vanished within.

 

[Lala]

Lily was floating in that heavenly afterglow of a really wonderful orgasm, bolstered by the fact that it had been so expertly wrung from her by Mr. Black. Master Black, she corrected herself. For he had claimed her, and now the entire club was quite aware of that fact.

Though she looked no older than nineteen or twenty, Lily was in actuality almost two hundred years old. Her kind stopped aging upon maturity, and she’d remain in this pert state of youth for eternity. Yet in all those years, not one being had managed to activate the roiling desire to serve within her. Until now. It seemed perhaps too quick a decision, for both of them, but she suspected Master Black had known upon seeing her that he desired to own her, just as she had desired to be owned by him the second she met those captivating hazel eyes.

She slowly became aware of her surroundings again. The gentle music of the piano, the murmurs of the crowd. They were talking about her, chattering about her body, the way she’d responded to Master Black’s ministrations, the showstopping finale that was going to require quite a bit of mopping up. Her cheeks flamed, bright enough that it seemed she could light the room with her humiliation. She had never been subjected to anything so embarrassing before in her long life.

Her legs felt scarcely capable of movement, quivering masses of jello that still shivered every now and again from an aftershock of her climax. She groaned when Master Black slid his fingers from her, earning one last little spurt of her lust that made her body jerk briefly. Her hair was disheveled about her face, sticking to her dewy forehead in places, but she felt like she didn’t even have the strength just yet to put herself back together.

She was lying half-on and half-off the chaise as though melted, her cheek pressed to the sticky leather. No words came when she tried to speak, though her eyes traced up to her owner when he did, looking glazed and faraway. And then he left. Another soft whimper erupted from her, but she was too exhausted still to even try to crawl after him.

Gentle hands eased under her armpits a few minutes later, hauling her up so that she was at least half-sitting on the chaise. An older woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Weatherby took hold of her chin and turned her head until she thought it was straight enough. She wrapped a measuring tape around her neck, noted the measurement, and jotted it down on a small notepad before bustling off to some back room to fetch the appropriate collar for Master Black.

A busboy with a mop and bucket arrived next, quickly sopping up the evidence of her lewd display with several lascivious looks tossed toward Lily as he did so. He looked a bit squirrelly while doing it, as though he knew he shouldn’t be looking at the boss’s girl. It was only when he "accidentally" bumped into her and ran a hand briefly over her leg that the bartender spoke up from where he'd been watching. "Ricky, he'll kill you." The busboy jumped and scurried off, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe himself.

Lily was just starting to come down. Her heart rate was evening out, but her body still felt on fire. The cool air of the club licked at her still-erect nipples atop that generous bosom still on display, as well as teased her sodden nethers.

Mrs. Weatherby returned from delivering her collar to the office and shuffled her off to a room at the start of the hallway that was labeled Aftercare. Inside there was a small shower and bath, plentiful towels, lockers with names on them, and a large assortment of lotions and ointments for rope burns and whip marks. She helped her rinse off, toweled her down, and massaged a sweet-smelling oil into her skin until it gleamed like white marble.

There were velvet robes on hooks on the wall and Lily reached out for one, but the woman shook her head. “He’ll decide what you wear after your collaring.” With that, she led her down the hall to the very end, passing several other doors on the way.

The sounds of the club had faded and it was dead quiet in the hall. Only the sound of her heel clicks echoed on the wood. They stopped at the red door.

Mrs. Weatherby rapped three times. “Mr. Black, your girl is here,” she said, waiting until he bid her open the door to do so. She took her leave once she had done her duty of bringing the proprietor’s property to him.

Lily hesitantly stepped in. The color rose to her cheeks again almost immediately when she saw Master Black sitting behind a massive desk piled with books and papers. She was still nude, still stripped bare and vulnerable before him.

She ducked her head down slightly, clasped her hands behind her back and greeted him properly for the first time. “Master.”

 

[Penitency]

It had been so long since Byron Black had found something that interested him as much as Lily. Her beauty and charm were irresistible to a man of such taste, and it was true that he did have a favoritism with her kind. To him, the fae were polar opposites of his natural form that preferred rage and violence; it was something he could never be and truly enticed him to no end. Byron only dreamed to find his own to thoroughly corrupt to his liking as if she was some doll made to order. Lily was that doll, and he was in the transformation process of it all. Finally his dreams were becoming a reality, and the wolf could not be more elated.

After having broken his beautiful submissive across the chaise, rending her into nothing but clay to be molded by his hands, Byron retreated into his homey den. The bloody sheen of the metal door looked old and decrepit. Years of wear and lack of maintenance had the corners peeling back as if repulsed by its own self. Jagged claw marks could be seen deeply drawn into the surface here and there, most notably near the protruded handle of metal that pushed forwards in a loop. The hinges protested every inch and the bottom of the metal door dragged upon the tarnished surface of the floor.

The sounds of piano music and conversation had been long gone this far down the corridor. Instead, it was replaced with the hum of the gaslamps lining the brick walls. They tossed an orange wash of soft light that seemingly dotted the stretch of walkway but never commingled with one another. A silence seemed to amplify footsteps, jangling keys, or whatever else came down the halls. It was a true echo chamber, much like the lobby, but the same was not for the rooms at the left and right.

When the door opened to Byron's office, the crackle of a fireplace could be heard farthest from the door. A large stone slab was embedded at the far wall, opened into a U and exposing firewood stacked upon one another. A gentle fire washed the interior in warmth and welcomed her in. The soothing crack of firewood burning was joined by the louder rumbles of thunder that thrummed the underground from the surface. To Lily's left was Byron's thick oak desk stacked with papers and bound stacks of parchment. She could smell the stubbed out cigarettes and the burning sandlewood the fireplace seemingly gave off.

The tapestry was old and matching that of the design from the club's bowing interior. Red velvet chairs, dimpled with rivets, sat here and there in far corners. To her right was a sectional couch that was bound in leather and short by nature. A glass coffee table framed in wood sat before it. Beyond the couch- more wood shelving holding thousands of books from wall to wall, surrounding and moving around the edging of a door in the far corner that was undoubtedly his bedroom, hidden from her view.

Byron had been seated behind his desk underneath the romantically lit room's ambiance. A cigarette hung from his warm lips, dangling in a downward slant, and smoke slowly danced before his handsome face. His mixture of brown and green eyes merely watched the burning embers of the fireplace as Lily shuffled in and spoke. Byron's side was to her, but his head soon turned toward a shoulder to lay eyes upon his newest possession. One hand calmly reached up, pulled the cigarette from his lips, and lowered it at his side. Byron stood up now, exhaling away from her, and began to walk over with the thud of his patience footfalls.

"Lily, my pet..." The well dressed male stopped a foot or so away before allowing his eyes to roam over her once more, "you have no idea how much you please me." A soft hum of approval escaped him as Byron slipped the cigarette back between his lips and stepped the rest of the way. His eyes remained leveled with her own as he stopped an inch or so away now. His hand carefully laid upon one of her breasts and stroked his thumb across her nipple. Bryon's head canted to the side, eyes still level with hers, "It's not too late, you know?" His voice dropped to a gruff whisper again as he continued.

"I'll give you one chance to leave. I am a fair beast."

He was deadpanned and wore that world class poker face. The hand upon her breast slowly began to slide up, trickling finger over her chest, then collarbone. Byron's hand slowly ran up the column of her neck before cupping her head and around the ear.

As he spoke, his cigarette shifted between warm lips, "Otherwise..."

He pulled away, turning to his desk, picking up the thick leather collar with silver studs and clasp. A single diamond was punched into the strap that led into the clasp at the opposite end. It seemingly glistened under the dim light of his den as Byron held it before him, weighing it in his hand.

"Bare your neck proudly to me. And you'll regard me as your owner, your Master, from this time forward."

 

[Lala]

The antique grandfather clock behind his desk ticked out the seconds in silence. Her eyes traced the lush room, a lavish display of wealth and good taste. It was rooms like this, heaped with treasures from another time, that almost made her forget what year it was. The knicknacks scattered around the office were probably vintage, relics of those ages past that so many of the supernatural creatures experienced in person. She felt at home in places like this, and she was excited to think that this would be her home.

The gently flickering firelight glanced off her oiled skin, highlighting the soft curves of her hips, the stiff peaks of her breasts. It was warm and cozy in this room, but still her body showed signs of arousal with how taut her little buds remained atop those ample pillows. Though her thighs were cleaned of those lewd juices, if he checked, he’d find her sex still primed and ready. Something about his scent and presence, and the fact that he so aggressively claimed her in the open, kept her wet and warm for him.

She found her attention tracing past those shelves heavy with his impressive literature collection. Toward the closed door at the back. It must be his private chambers, she thought, and her lips parted slightly at the thought of being thrown onto his bed and taken. Her cheeks remained heated, a furious flush that crossed over the bridge of her nose, ever more noticeable on snow white skin.

Cigarette smoke lingered in the air, coiling in a seductive dance around Master Black’s head. The man dominated his desk, though it was a massive thing of heavy English oak. Even if she knew nothing of him, she'd know he was at the apex of his world. She offered him a shy smile when he rose to come toward her. Though she could be fiery and fierce by nature, for some reason the wolf’s presence calmed her, tamed her, a fairer being bending to the alpha before her. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time, to be so enchanted by someone she'd only just met.

She raised her chin slightly to meet his eyes, searching for approval as to whether this was appropriate. He was already staking claim with every brush of his hand. Her shoulders jerked up slightly, eyes flashing wide as she issued a soft little sound at the trace of his thumb over her sensitive nub. It hardened even more, like a firm little rock under his caress.

“Thank you, Sir,” she responded in a soft breath. Those words made her hum with delight. She already pleased him and had scarcely gotten to show him how she truly could please him. The scent of him and his tall frame looming over her much smaller one made her ache. Her brows drew together briefly. Her eyes were dilated with excitement, so she looked even more doelike in the shadow of this predator. “Leave?” Her voice tremored slightly. Did he want her to go? No. Never. His body language, his desire to possess her, gave him away. He was being generous, fair.

Her breath caught upon feeling that firm hand laced around her slender throat. Smoke curled around her head. The clock ticked. The fire crackled, popping every now and then in the space of silences. They were in their own world again, though here she felt even more vulnerable than she had when he forced her to cum in front of a full club.

Eyes left his momentarily to watch as he gathered the collar from his desk. Elation raced through her, from her toes to the tips of her ears, raising goosebumps on her flesh. It was something she’d not done in all her years, giving herself completely to another. Nerves made her stomach flip and she suddenly understood his offer. This was no simple undertaking for either of them.

But it was right. It was destined. She was meant to be his.

Lily swept her thick mane of cornsilk locks back over her shoulder, balling it into a fist so she could hold it away from the slender column he intended to collar. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving, Master,” she answered him, gazing into his eyes with the desires he’d stoked within her reflected in the firelight. “I am yours.”