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blackmistral · 3 months ago

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Jealousy, jealousy

Alcina Dimitrescu x f!Reader

Warnings: marking kink, strap-on (reader receiving), consented possession, confession?, top&dom! Alcina, bottom&sub! Reader

After a visit from Karl and an invitation to tour his factory, your mistress is determined to show you who's in charge…

Your mistress was merciless. You had seen her killing a lot of people – often to protect you or her daughters – so you were definitely used to it. But she was merciless with you too. When she needed to prove her point or when you teased her as you carried out your duties.

So, when you made a comment this morning about her brother Heisenberg – her number one Nemesis – she saw red.

“Karl passed by this morning when I was doing my chores in the hall… He asked me if I wanted to visit his factory more often to see his new creations? Also said that you shouldn’t know it, though… But I thought it best to let you know, mistress.”

“Excuse me?” Alcina growled, seated at the vanity and applying her deep red lipstick. She turned slowly towards you, siting patiently in the bed. “And may I ask what you gave him in reply?”

Your eyes widened at her not-so newfound jealousy. “Well, I told him off, of course… Only you should decide who I’m visiting. But he…”

“Yes?”

“He insisted, my lady. So, I… I said I would, eventually. Are you… mad at me?” your last words were a mere whisper as you looked down at your lap.

She seemed to hesitate how to react. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips pulled in a frown and her nose slightly wrinkled. If you had to be honest, she was incredibly cute. The Lady in person, jealous about her own brother over her favorite maiden. Such a sight, you thought, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You are not to see this… vulgar man. Ever,” she spoke again. This time, she was standing in front of you, looking right into your eyes when you dared to meet hers. “You are mine.”

And here you were, laid naked on the bed, and legs wide open and tears rolling down your face. Alcina, dressed in a red nightgown – which was practically off due to all the pulling you had done on it --, was going in and out of your pussy at a delicious speed.

“Ah! Mi- mistress, please!” the squelching sounds down your bodies were horribly embarrassing and yet, you hoped she would never stop thrusting. She was so close to you, driving her strap in and out of your cunt.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” she said in your ear, her ragged breathing making her even more sexy. Your mind didn’t know what to think anymore, as it was overwhelmed by so much pleasure.

“I… I need it harder! Please… please! Fuck me harder, Mistress!” you begged.

The Lady looked at your fucked out face – as this amazing session had begun hours ago – and smiled devilishly.

“You want me to give it to you harder, huh? Then I’ll give it to you.”

She growled low, and suddenly you wished you had shut your mouth. Her hips drove themselves at an inhuman pace, fucking you into oblivion. Your high whimpers turned to breathless moans.

“You are mine. Do you understand? You belong to me. Say it,” she growled in your face, punctuating her words with harsh trusts, and showing her perfectly sharped fangs.

“Ah...! I’m… I’m yours! I belong to you…” you bared your neck, preparing yourself for the woman to throw herself at it. But she didn’t. The in-and-out didn’t falter in the slightest, but the expression on her face had changed. She had a small, satisfied smile and looked at you as if you were the seventh wonder of the world.

“Do you mean it?” she asked in a whisper.

“Of course I… do!” you answered right away, trying not to moan.

Her smile widened and she kissed you slowly. You whimpered in her mouth as she obviously dominated the kiss.

“Please, call me Alcina, my darling,” she kissed your jaw and finally eyed your neck. “May I?”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. “Yes… mark me, Alcina.”

“Good girl.”

Alcina lunged at your neck, piercing the skin and drinking your blood vigorously. You couldn’t help but scream at the overwhelming senses you felt: the pain, the pleasure, everything was deliciously too much, and you came hard. The Lady withdrew her bloodied mouth off your throat after some time.

“Hmm… perfect taste. Such a wonder you are, my dear.”

As she nuzzled your neck, her hips slowly came to a stop. Her breathing was heavy – as were yours – but she seemed happier than ever.

“I… am glad I am to your taste, Alcina,” you managed to say in between breaths.

“I never doubted it,” she smiled. “Do you want me to pull out, sweet girl?”

You shook your head and put your hands on her forearms.

“No… but could we cuddle for a bit?” you asked shyly. “I hope I am not crossing a line.”

Alcina was taken aback by your question but lied down next to you nonetheless and took you in her arms, your head just above her rapidly beating heart.

“Of course we can. I would love nothing more.”

Silence filled the room as you tried to catch your breath. Although very pale, her skin was smooth and pale. You delicately ran your fingers on it, below her collarbones.

“I apologize for my possessiveness. You obviously can do whatever you want, darling. If you wish to go to his factory, I hope you are aware that I will not stop you, as it is not my place to do so,” she confessed, breaking the silence.

“But I really don’t want to go there, Alcina. I like being here – with you.”

She released a breath, as if she had hoped you would say that.

“I am deeply happy to hear that. Knowing that you feel safe around me… satisfies me. Thank you.”

She kissed the top of your head while affectionately rubbing your sore back. Your eyes felt heavy, and all you wanted to do now was to sleep in her arms.

“I love you,” you said without even thinking then fell asleep.

The countess smiled fondly at your words.

“I love you too, my precious angel.”

thank you all for liking my first fic! this one's even shorter (🥲) but it's my first smut ever 😭 don't hesitate to tell me what could be better or anything! <3

(Bound by Love is already posted on my ao3 if anyone's interested! i'll post this one tomorrow)

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu smut #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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runawayonryo · 1 year ago

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ppl stop writing for Heisenberg... how about our magnetto man with a punk/alternative SO??

OUHHHH yessssss!

pairing: Karl Heisenberg x GN!reader

{{note: I generally write REVillage fics Post-canon/alternate universe, assuming Ethan and rose, Mia etc. never existed sry XD}}

Warnings: swearing, brief mention of gore, very mild sexual themes

Ohoho where do I begin?

Karl when he first spots you is... intrigued to say the least.

You weren't like the others, you dressed differently, acted differently, and most importantly... you weren't like the other villagers, blindly following and worshipping Miranda!

Now, Karl being Karl... he thought about pulling his usual BS about "I'm a metal lord, fear me!" but quickly decided against it; not wanting to scare you off or anything. Especially since you didn't seem local, therefore not knowing who the fuck he is.

{and pshhh don't tell anyone i told you this, but despite his huge ego... he might not actually want you to know who he really is at first. So he'll try his best to act "normal" and as human as possible}

After he finally approached you and engaged in a regular conversation, he quickly finds himself craving more.

Long story short, he seeks you out in the village again the next day, inviting you over to his factory because... he didn't really have a house. Anyway, he wouldn't show you what he actually does in there... you two will be in his office on the first floor, he ain't taking you down into the actual factory until he is sure you won't freak out.

This "friend meeting" (totally not a date ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °) goes smoothly surprisingly. He'll ask you about your tattoos and/or piercings, scars etc. {if you have any}.

After a long-ass conversation about all kinds of shit, he'll just ask the question we've all been waiting for.

"So buttercup, you... eh... one of those emos?"

Time for the explanation between emo, goth, punk, rock. Two minutes into this, Karl stops listening... he got his answer.

You listen to heavy music.

And so does he.

Start talking about Metallica, Slipknot, I prevail, Rob Zombie, ACDC, black sabbath, Iron Maiden, Avenged Sevenfold, hell.... even SOME my chemical romance and Seether- and i promise, you'll get his attention piqued!

Especially if we're talking german bands such as "Rammstein" or "Die Toten Hosen" and he'll just... scream internally?

Like first of all... there's someone who also hates mother miranda besides him, they are funny, hot AND love german bands?!

SIGN HIM TF UP!

Needless to say, you two started a relationship quickly.

Despite needing to make his huge ass metal army, he takes a day off to make a bigass stereo...

{and then later that day Lady Dimitrescu complains about the loud ass music coming from his factory that even SHE and her three girls can hear from her castle. lol. Heisenberg tells her to shut the fuck up}

His huge goal is obviously to kill miranda... and then after escaping this shit village together with you. When the day comes, you two will celebrate with flipping off Lady supersized bitch and rolling off to a concert

{which likely isn't a good idea... imagine Karl wanting the microphone from the singer or something. You be chillin and there's just... a floating microphone... you be like... "Karl? what are YOU DOING?!" meanwhile Karl just has a shit eating grin as the crowd screams}

But let's not jump to far into the future...

Right now, you two are stuck under Miranda's disgusting-ass thumb.

Dark times man. It's shit, but whenever you waddle into his office whilst he's working... just y'know... get your phone out and play one of his favorite songs!

This man will {depending on his mood} shoo you away, or most-likely drop what he's doing and just... *grab* you and start juming around the room like monkies in a moshpit.

Once the song finishes, his hand will move from cupping your cheek, to cupping CHEEKS. Just him seeing you rock out to his favorite songs... is enough for Karl to get all hot 'n bothered. So expect some bending over the Work-bench and nice grindin' whilst 'Closer' by nine inch nails plays ;)

EXTRA:

if you like steampunk

this

man

will

just...

Scramble to collect little gears and screws... making little earrings, rings, necklaces etc.

also

stud bracelets.

and if you like wearing chokers

be careful

that awakens a beast within him

"oh ho ho buttercup! What do we have here? Want me to attach a leash and make you *my pet*?

#request #resident evil village #resident evil #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenburg fanart #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #re8 #re8 village #re8 x reader

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chucapybara · 1 year ago

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reference. [a donna beneviento x maiden short, part ii]

speedran the second part, oop! it's much longer than the first, so enjoy :) for reference the first short ended at 900 words and this one stretched to 2.3k haha! heisenberg is mentioned in this one but does not appear himself.

bringing the tray up the lift is an easy enough feat on its own. after having spent a number of years in your lady's company, the motions are, in essence, routine: a pattern in your mind already drawn by your thoughts before you so much as act upon them.

that ease would be the case, of course, were it not for the presence of a certain doll pestering at your ankles. grabbing at the fabric of your trousers and scaling the back of your blouse, angie swiftly makes it her business to climb you like a tree.

and, well, to a degree, it was angie's business. that, you couldn't argue. after all, it was by her suggestion that you were occupied by all this preparation in the first place, with your journal tucked in your pocket—awaiting an opportunity for the 'real thing', as angie had put it.

“miss angie, please don't test my balance,” you say, as you elbow the up button. “it would be a waste of tea if all this fell over.”

angie grunts with effort as she settles onto your shoulder, the folds of her dress stealing a third of your vision. “angie!” you sigh, holding tighter onto the tray. the elevator doors click into place, gears rumbling as the car rises up the shaft.

“it's a good view up here! all the better to see your faces!” angie cackles, jaw clacking while she wraps a metal-jointed arm around your face. you grumble a futile protest, going unheard by the doll obscuring your view.

once upon a time, being in such a confined space unsettled you. the gate, when shut, almost felt a cage, and you worried that the age of the manor would inadvertently show itself while you rode alone in service of the lady's wishes. but not long after your arrival to house beneviento, a man had come by as you worked the gardens.

'gear-gnasher', angie had called him. when you rose to your feet to welcome the visitor, sunglasses and trench coat and fedora and the stench of cigar smoke and machine oil and iron steel on him, he'd introduced himself as lady donna's brother—lord karl heisenberg.

he was friendly, if not a little overly so: hand on your shoulder, firm pats on your back that you swore almost dislocated your ribs. glad to see that his sister finally had some manner of company that wasn't just her crafted creations, heisenberg found joy in getting up close and personal, taking great interest in the beneviento's new maid; and while you tried to reciprocate out of respect to the lord, you found a little trouble in doing so with his smoky breath so close.

the fragrance of orchids and roses broke the two of you apart when a fourth, looming presence presented herself. it was a scent you had since come to love and associate with your lady, and justly so, as it seemed that donna herself had come to collect heisenberg.

angie told you later that day of the lord's work, while you smoothed out and cleaned her dress. he was to maintain and repair some of the mechanisms around the home to ensure its occupants' safety, all arranged by the head of the house.

(and then angie proceeded to whine about how such measures were unneeded, considering herself and donna had no problem getting from one floor to another with the rickety elevator as they were—but it was the first time you'd ever known such a gesture of rather affectionate precaution, made on your behalf from the lady beneviento. throughout the years, you found, it was certainly not to be her last.)

you take great care in balancing both angie and the tea tray as you exit the lift on the main floor. angie prods your face, her legs swinging, dubious acts you can't help believe are meant to displace your steps; you hold fast, however, almost disappointing angie when you manage to make it out the front door without spilling a drop.

”angie.” a voice chides, soft. your heart skips simultaneously with angie's disgruntled grumble, and the cool sun is once again made visible to you as angie hops down from your shoulder.

donna sits at the porchside, one of her smaller fabric projects cradled in her lap. her veil is abandoned on the table beside, and while a soft fluster colours at her pale skin as your eyes meet hers, the ease in donna's gaze and the slightest curl of her lip speaks much regarding the comfort your lady has found in laying her face bare for you to see.

“some tea, my lady?” you offer, placing the tray on the table. with the afternoon temperatures moderated well by the waterfall on the rearside of the manor, you well look forward to the peace of having a break, made better with donna's company.

”thank you, mio dolce.“ donna says warmly, and peers at the plated snacks. you can't help puffing up with joy; it isn't often that donna speaks, even around you, and so every gently spoken phrase is nestled in your heart heart, cradling it there with the same delicacy that donna now holds angie in her lap. “what are these?”

“croquettes! i made pancakes, too,” you smile as you take your seat opposite the pair. angie has already taken one of the treats, chewing on it—you've come to simply accept giving yourself the benefit of the doubt as to where the food goes. it's a wonder that angie hadn't snuck one for herself while on the elevator.

(or maybe she did, and her dress in your face concealed the crime from view.)

donna is more mannered, forking one of the croquettes and bringing it close for a bite while you pour tea for the two ladies. you fail to notice her inquisitive glances, as though wanting to raise a query to you.

“you've… become quite the cook,” lady beneviento hums. she clears her throat, gratefully taking cup and saucer and lifting them to her lips. you can't help studying every graceful motion, delicate movements, committing each detail to mind.

“i'm glad you enjoy it.” you beam. you're fixated on the curve of donna's jaw, the bumps and marred skin of the scar that has claimed her right eye, the lines connecting the whole of your muse's image together.

many times have you done this, as subtly as you could—but each occasion has never made your sketches of donna any easier, as though the picture of your lady in your mind and in reality is simply beyond what your hands could ever recreate.

(after all, what mortal hands could ever come close to sculpting a portrait of the divine?)

you've yet to take from the plate of treats you've made, or sip from your own tea. you reach into your pocket, keeping your journal in your lap under the table, out of donna's sight.

perhaps this would be your chance to capture that long-awaited accuracy you've been desiring for some time.

though you aren't the best of actresses, neither is donna, and the longer you have the pages propped open under the table, the more you begin to feel that donna is suspecting your intentions with the snacks and the tea.

these breaks are a regular part of your routines, of course: a precious time away from your work and your lady's to spend in one another's company, a welcome breather from the monotony. yet, with all the knowledge you keep on one another, it isn't so difficult to discern when something has shifted in the air.

you spend so long staring hard at the pencil lines that you hardly register movement across from you, in the form of an ebony dress skirt rising from a chair, its figure drawing close. it isn't until you hear a curious gasp from your side that you startle, pencil almost flying from your grasp as you snap your head upwards.

it's too late to shut your journal closed, but you do so anyway with the fury of red-hot embarrassment warming your cheeks—and donna's, you find.

(not like you were making a point to be overly secretive, anyway. angie has been biting her non-existent tongue from remarking on your shared glances, not so different from skittish lovebirds.)

“were you… sketching me?”

donna wrings her hands together, and for a moment, the curiosity in her eye flickers between a sudden apprehension. you set your journal and pencil on the table, and reach to cup donna's palms in yours.

angie takes this moment to make a sound not at all unlike gagging. she swiftly excuses herself from the premises; “when i come back, you better draw me too!” angie demands, words you can only laugh at with the predicament you've shoveled yourself into.

“yes, i was,” you can't help the sheepish smile on your lips as you squeeze donna's hands. neither smooth nor too rough, a part of you knows that this touch you cradle are those of a most experienced dollmaker, an artisan—even as your heart whispers, 'an angel. you hold your lady, a lady of creation, someone incandescently wondrous, in this village of mold and the craven undead.'

“i could never get it right the previous times. it drove me up the wall! so i thought i'd take the chance to sketch you while you were busy with the snacks.” the warmth of your shame does not vanish from your features, but you cannot do any less than smile for your lady. “you look positively beautiful, my lady. forgive me. i can rid of the sketch if you wish—”

“no, no.” donna shakes her head. she releases your hands, and for a moment you find yourself aching to hold them again, to bridge the distance between artist and muse.

donna reclaims her seat, to the muffled sounds of what is surely angie messing about inside the manor. your lady straightens up, posture rigid, as though preparing to be painted, as she once had been with the portrait of herself and angie on the foyer wall.

she's posing for you, you realise; and once more does your heart skip a single pace, as donna's own countenance colours a darker rose.

you chuckle again, a sound lacking malice or mockery, as you bring your pencil back between your fingers. “oh, be at ease, donna,” you murmur kindly. “this is not so formal. do as you like, and don't mind me at all!”

returning to the hastily-enclosed page, you begin a second time, more aware now as donna slowly relaxes, ashened iris centred on you.

from one artist to another, being under donna's visage this way makes you feel almost like the object of study. not that you minded, of course.

there's a clatter of donna's fork preceding the bump of something bready against your lip, and you look up, noticing how your lady holds out a croquette. with another smile of thanks, you close your mouth around it, plucking the treat off the tine.

(lady beneviento was quite right, indeed. your cooking has improved.)

you eat as you sketch, your lines more confident now as you pencil in the dark of donna's dress, her sleeves, her bunned hair. you have some trouble with her scar, with the current angle of her face.

reaching across, your fingertips delicately brush against donna's cheek, tender and gentle. “my lady. excuse me,” you whisper, nudging her chin with the intent of getting a better picture of donna's face—but instead, your hand lingers, as if not wishing to let go.

you can feel donna's warm breath on your palm, the surprise in her expression softening, as she seeks out more of your touch. there's a whisper on her tongue, and you vaguely think it is your name, glued as you are to donna's eye, and then to her lip.

you brush your thumb, there. your throat tightens, just the slightest bit.

“perhaps,” your lady voices, and it moves you from your reverie with a fluster, “i could persuade you to let me capture your likeness, as well.”

“in a doll?”

“in whatever you would like it to be.”

“and how would you go about such a thing, my lady?”

though you make to withdraw your hand, to return to your sketch, donna's grasp is firm around your wrist when she tugs you back. the table clutters with the movement, and even with the lady beneviento's gentle hold, you have almost forgotten the power of this spell donna wields over your heart.

your faces are close, too close, but you care little for the way the tablewood digs into your hips. all you know, all you see here, is her.

“i have my methods,” donna muses, and she nudges her lips to yours.

petals harken her name, flourishing under delight and sun and mist as donna beneviento kisses you, and it is as true as it is indeed divine. eyelids fluttering shut, you will yourself to her command, sighing with the fluttering beat of your ribcage, thrumming in your ears.

in parting from her comes a wish of wanting, but you steel yourself, before greed takes hold of you any further. the cool air barely suffices in restoring the breath taken from, shared with you, and it's easy to forget what you were even doing before it.

donna adorns an expression more shy than it is bold, an irony considering her forwardness mere seconds ago.

“does that suffice to convince you?” she asks, amused in her tone.

you move your chair closer to her, an elated grin plaguing your face.

“oh, more than, my lady.”

”FINALLY!“ a triumphant, high-pitched bellow echoes, as the door slams open. out trots angie, having returned for her demand. ”is it my turn now? it's my turn!“

you laugh, and with donna's own melodious joining, you cannot quite remember why you were so worried in the first place. to be closer to your muse, after all, rewards the most accuracy—and how could you ever think of being any more farther apart?

#🌕 chuca writes #donna beneviento #angie beneviento #resident evil village #donna beneviento x reader #i really got a single nice comment and i sat down and found my motivation to give the first part a good conclusion #i hope this is good :)#i understand what keeps some fic writers going now #also i apologise if some quotations are funky i wrote these on stimuwrite

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blood-darkened-moon · 2 years ago

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Resident Evil

Jill Valentine | Chris Redfield | Claire Redfield | Leon S Kennedy | Ethan Winters

Umbrella Albert Wesker | William Birkin | Ozwell E Spencer | HUNK | Morpheus

Resident Evil 0 Billy Coen | Rebecca Chambers | James Marcus | Lurker | Proto Tyrant

Resident Evil 3 Nikolai Zinoviev/Nicholai Ginovaef | Nemesis | Mikhail Viktor | Carlos Oliveira | Tyrell Patrick

Resident Evil 5 Sheva Alomar | Excella Gionne | Ndipaya | Popokarimu

Chronicles Javier Hidalgo | Manuela Hidalgo | Sergei Vladimir | Ivan

Revelations Jack Norman | Alex Wesker | Natalia Korda | Moira Burton | Rachel Foley

RE Trivia | RE Meta | RE Headcanon | Fanfic Umbrella Pharmaceuticals

#resident evil #tag list

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ambersweets134 · 3 months ago

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Midnight Lady D doodles

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rosestarlightkatarina · 2 years ago

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Karl Heisenberg, talking about Y/N for the first time: She is a bitch “pointing at Alcina” just like you.

Y/N: It is the most interesting and actually the best compliment I’ve ever had.

#incorrect resident evil village quotes #re8 incorrect quotes #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re8 #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x y/n #alcina x y/n #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #resident evil alcina #re8 alcina #alcina x oc #alcina x maiden #alcina x reader

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ilovedonnabeneviento · 1 year ago

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Heisenberg is moody

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clareguilty · 3 years ago

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A Tainted Rescue Part 2

hello! i cannot escape my own terrible ideas! Have more Heisenberg porn! Karl Heisenberg/Maiden Rating: Explicit | WARNING: dark content, explicit smut, big sexy evil guy doing bad things Word Count: ~2500

Lord Heisenberg lifted the maiden into his carriage and pulled her onto his lap as the mechanical horse took off away from the castle. She shook and cried in his arms, whimpering with every rattle of the wheels on the unpaved path to the Lord's domain.

"You're safe now," he promised her. "I'm going to take good care of you."

She clung to him, face buried in his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back in a slow, steady rhythm. Her breathing began to even out and her sobs turned to sporadic hiccups the farther they traveled from that horrid castle.

Lord Heisenberg was extremely proud of himself. He had managed to pull one over on Alcina all while getting a delightful new toy to play with. She was so precious, so perfect. He would have to make sure to spoil her rotten.

Just outside of the factory grounds, covered in overgrown plants, a small stone staircase led up to Lord Heisenberg’s house. He helped the maiden up the worn steps, holding branches out of the way as they ducked through the overgrowth.

“I never actually use this place,” he explained. “I spend most of my time in the factory. But that’s no place for you. Now I finally have someone to come home to.” He kissed her knuckles as he led her across the threshold.

The lights were electric, and they turned on at a wave of the Lord’s hand. He chuckled at the maiden's awestruck expression.

The house was a mess, dusty and cluttered. It must have been months since the Lord actually stayed there. Narrow and tucked into the hillside, the two story was smaller than Lady Beneviento’s villa but still larger than almost any of the houses of the village.

“Heh,” he laughed wryly. “Looks like this place needs a lot of work.”

He led the maiden up the stairs and to the main chamber. The room was sparsely furnished with just a low double bed, a wardrobe, and a writing desk piled high with books and papers and the same scrap metal that seemed to appear throughout the Lord’s domain. It was nothing like the opulent and immaculate rooms of the castle.

The maiden let Lord Heisenberg push her to a seat on the bed. He knelt in front of her, squeezing her jaw in one hand and forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“I may not be as fucked as my witch of a sister, but let me make one thing clear. I am not above killing you. You will stay out of my factory. Understand?”

The maiden whimpered, tears once again threatening to spill over her cheeks. “Yes, My Lord.”

He released her jaw and patted her cheek lightly. “Good girl.” He shucked off his coat and draped it over the back of the desk chair. His hat and glasses were quick to follow. He sat beside her on the bed and unlaced his boots.

The maiden removed her own shoes -- the only things she wore that were intact. Her stockings were shredded, as were her skirts. She didn’t even have any drawers on anymore. The front of her dress was ripped down to her stomach, and she tugged the fabric over her shoulders and out from under her until it fell in a puddle on the floor. She was naked and bruised and marked. She felt filthy, used, ruined. But that was what the Lord said was needed to save her. If he hadn’t done what he had, she would be dead at the hands of the Mistress.

The Lord must have seen her numbness, her distress, because he pulled her into his chest and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Hey now,” he whispered. “She can’t touch you here. I’d like to see her try.” He sounded as if he would welcome the fight. “Let me make you feel good.”

He laid the maiden on her back and nudged her thighs apart so he could kneel between her legs. The sight of the damage he had done at the castle brought a smile to his face, and he pressed his fingers into the bruises that were blooming across her thighs.

With no preamble, he pressed two fingers inside of her, crooking them and stretching her open. The maiden whined and gripped the linens with white knuckles. The Lord was only spurred on by her reaction and added a third finger. He loved the way she tightened around him, and longed to feel it on his cock again.

Despite her inexperience, it was no time at all before she was dripping just from the motions of his fingers. He made sure to bring her right to the brink of pleasure, holding her just on that precipice as he pulled his cock from his pants and lined himself up.

He pressed into her slowly, lifting her hips to meet his and bracing himself over her on the bed. She was trapped beneath him, nearly bent in half as his cock split her open once more. It felt even deeper than before, and she couldn’t hold back her high, breathy whines as he began to move. He moaned as he drove his cock into her harder and harder on each stroke.

“You feel amazing. So soft. So tight. You’re all mine. Just for me.”

“All yours,” the maiden repeated. “Just for you.”

“Oh, you’re so perfect,” he groaned. “She didn’t deserve you. She could never have made you feel like this. Come for me. Come on my cock.”

He reached between them to rub her clit, determined to watch her eyes flutter shut and the moans that tumbled from her lips as she came undone around him.

And it was spectacular. She was so precious. To think she had never known pleasure like this before. He was going to be everything for her. Her saviour. Her king.

She clung to him as she came, shuddering and gasping as he forced her through the blinding orgasm. He continued to fuck her, determined to find his own end as well, but he noticed she was barely responsive. Poor thing, probably passed out from the pleasure.

The Lord didn’t let that stop him as he buried himself inside of her to the hilt. He loved watching his cock sink into her, splitting her open and twitching inside of her. He came to the sight of it, filling her as deeply as possible and rocking his hips as she tightened around him once more. Even unconscious, he was able to make her feel good.

Finally satisfied with his claim, he pulled out and arranged the maiden to lay beside him. “You need your rest. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what to do with you.”

Life with Lord Heisenberg was nothing like serving at Castle Dimitrescu. The Lord was crass and informal, just as quick tempered as his ‘sister’ but never directed at the maiden.

No. The maiden was given special privileges. She was his prized possession, swiped right out from under Alcina’s claws, and he loved to spoil her and dote on her.

He had never had a pet like her before. All of his own creations and gifts from Mother Miranda were mindless and bloodthirsty and horrific. But the maiden, she was beautiful and sweet. She was so devoted to him, her savior. He had freed her, given her everything, and now she lived to serve him.

Her new life was one of endless pleasure and indulgence. The Lord fucked her and filled her and marked her as his own. He loved to ruin her, to claim her. She was so precious, trapped in that castle and hidden away from the world. He wanted to show her every filthy experience she had missed.

She fit so perfectly around his cock, so warm and tight and responsive. He enjoyed her moans and gasps of pleasure just as much as he enjoyed finishing inside her.

He didn’t know he was capable of such softness. He was rough when he fucked her, sure to bite her and mark her. Bruising handprints blooming over her skin after he took her to bed. But he was also gentle with her at times. Praise and thanks and kisses to her hairline. There was a different kind of satisfaction to seeing her smile.

The maiden bowed her head as she offered Lord Heisenberg a glass of whiskey late one evening. He had been away at the factory for much of the previous days occupied by his work. The drink was a warm welcome. “Thank you, buttercup,” he pulled her into his lap. “I have something for you.”

He took a gulp from the glass before setting it aside and fishing around in his pockets.

“Aha! Here!” He procured two thick shining bands in his palms. They looked small in his grasp but were still a few inches in diameter.

The Lord grabbed the maiden’s hands. The metal rings levitated before closing around her wrists, fastening as though they were soldered together.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed, twisting her wrists this way and that to admire the jewelry. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Now everyone will know who you belong to,” he trailed kisses from her temple to her jaw.

The maiden giggled. “I don’t think there was any doubt of that before.” She was constantly covered in his marks, in his come. He loved to claim her as his in every possible way.

He would fill her until his seed was dripping down her thighs, smeared over her chest and her lips. Make her come until the only thing she knew was his name. He had found all her limits and he knew just how to push past them.

And now he had his steel on her.

She nuzzled against his chest, overwhelmed by the gift. No one at that wretched castle had ever shown her such kindness. Her lips peppered the skin where his shirt was unbuttoned, hands wandering over his chest and arms. She was still so uncertain about her desires. Alcina had certainly done a good job of brainwashing her.

But he had his own conditioning to do. So he whispered encouragement as she slipped between his knees and unfastened his belt. She was flushed and uncoordinated as she pulled his cock free from his pants. “Thank you,” she whispered again before wrapping her lips around him.

She was a good cocksucker, an eager learner and quick to respond to him. She had very quickly grown addicted to him, and he lived for it. Every time he would return from the depths of the factory, she was there craving his attention and his touch.

Now she was even more desperate. He had neglected her in favor of his work, and he regretted it when he saw how uncertain she had become. He would have to train her to handle his long absences. He certainly couldn’t trust anyone to watch over her while he was gone. She was too precious, they would corrupt her. Still, he enjoyed how she couldn’t seem to get enough of him, how dependent she was.

Lord Heisenberg relaxed and sipped his whiskey as she stroked and sucked his cock. He felt so powerful with the maiden on her knees before him. It made him crave more.

After several minutes, when his cock was shining from her lips and she was glassy eyed with lust between his knees, he cradled her head in one of his hands and pulled her onto his cock as deep as she could go. She submitted willingly, moaning at the way his fingers dug into her scalp.

He fucked her face, rough and deep, admiring the way tears spilled over her cheeks and spit dripped down her chin. Her obedience only turned him on more, and he came with a groan, pulling out before he could spill everything down her throat.

She was a filthy mess, come and spit smeared over her swollen lips. She cleaned his cock and blinked up at him expectantly.

“That’s a good girl.” He smiled as she melted at his words. One of her own hands had slipped beneath her skirts and she rocked down against it with a breathy moan. “Needy little thing, aren’t you? Can you wait for me? I promise I’ll give you a treat soon.”

The maiden immediately did as she was told, pulling her slick fingertips from beneath her dress.

“What do you say we wash up and call it a night?” He pulled her to her feet, leading her upstairs to the washroom.

The maiden had been delighted to find that the enormous bath upstairs -- though still smaller that Mistress Dimitrescu’s -- had taps that would run the water directly into the tub. A device of the Lord’s own creation heated the water along the way so that it steamed as it splashed into the porcelain basin. The maiden undressed the Lord with enthusiastic reverence, running her hands over his skin as she pulled his shirt from his broad shoulders. He slipped into the steaming water and sighed.

The maiden slipped out of her own clothes and climbed in as well. She lathered soap in her hands and set to work washing them both, massaging the tension from his muscles with her skilled fingers. What more could he possibly ask for?

He could tell how needy she was as she rinsed them clean. Her breaths were quick and short, skin flushed all the way down her chest and up to her ears. If they hadn’t already been in the water he was sure she would be dripping with arousal.

The Lord was tempted to try out his his new trick, but he wanted to wait for the perfect time. So instead he teased the poor girl with his fingers. She slumped against him, begging and pleading as he gave her everything just shy of what she needed.

He pulled her from the tub, drying both of them just enough before dragging her to bed. Laying back and pulling her on top of him, he grabbed her hips and ground her pussy against his length.

“Please,” she gasped. She looked so cute, begging for his cock. He lined himself up and pulled her all the way down until her hips met his. The shock of being filled so suddenly, stretched around him, made her scream.

He lifted her easily, using her like a doll for his pleasure. She slumped forward over his chest as he moved her hips however he liked. Her broken gasps and moans of pleasure were like music to his ears. He wanted to break her, to see her totally undone by his hand.

She came around his cock twice before he finally pulled her all the way onto him and pumped her full. Even though his body was exhausted from his orgasm, he wasn’t yet sated. Some strange desire still pulled at him. He had already gifted her with the bracelets he had yet to use, but maybe there were other toys to be made in his workshop.

She would be perfect for him.

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